Chain Reaction
by Thorne Lockehart
Summary: Formerly 'Welcome to the Jungle.' He didn't know what he wanted until she stumbled into his life. She never wanted anything until she met him. Flack/OC 'Flacino.' Established OC from previous stories. Chapter 64 is now UP
1. Welcome to the Jungle

**_REWRITE ALERT! I am rewriting Rules of Attraction...I feel it was rushed and just...not to my satisfaction...too raw, might I say? Anyways, it's gonna be completely ripped apart and redone. Second Chances is on hiatus for this rewrite and it will also be rewritten._**

**_Thank you for your time,_**

**_Lady-Buster c:_**

**_Disclaimer: I own no one but Isabella Pacino and her family. I promise_**

**_Set 1x01 'Blink'_**

**_Summary: I don't really have a summary for this story. Basically, you learn more about the story as you read it...I really suck at summaries.  
><em>**

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><p><em>Welcome to the jungle<em>

_It gets worse here every day_

_You learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play_

_If you got a hunger for what you see_

_You take it eventually_

_You can have anything you want_

_But you better not take it from me  
><em>

Guns N' Roses — Welcome to the Jungle

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><p>Her first day. Would the nerves ever leave her alone? One would think after working countless jobs for different places, that Isabella Pacino would shake and be immune to the 'first-day' jitters. In reality, she was starting all over and becoming what she had hazed in her hometown: a rookie. Isabella curled her lip at the title as she walked down the streets of Manhattan. Rookie sounded so...green. If there was anything Isabella Pacino wasn't, it was inexperienced in any fields. Luckily, she would be working with her brother and the others of the well-known NYPD. Her resumé had spoken for itself, as Detective Taylor had pointed out. She had expertise in ballistics, and could identify most calibers at a single once-over. After growing up in the South with her single mother and her twin brother, she had learned a thing or two about guns. Though, she was more of an engineer herself, with degrees in mechanics, chemistry, and forensics.<p>

"Lighten up, Pacino. Don't let them think they have the best of you, they'll walk all over it," she muttered. She raked a hand through her dark hair and bit her lower lip. Time to shake the nerves, because she was now approaching the 12th precinct. The sight of the door opening right in front of her caused her to skitter back a few steps. The familiar face of her brother caught her gaze.

"Levi, I declare, it's like you can smell me!" she said. Her older brother, Armando Levi Pacino Jr smirked. Everyone referred to him as Levi, because he hated being referred to as 'Armando' or even worse, 'Junior'. She held out her arms and embraced him. He hugged her back tightly.

"I was just about to call the K-9 unit to come and get you, Bells," he teased. She smiled and released her brother. It had been a good five years since she had laid eyes on her older brother. He was tall, with the lean kind of muscle that women went crazy for. Shaggy dark hair hung in his face, illuminating his naturally tan features. Eyes like dark chocolate sparkled playfully from under his hair. He looked full-blooded Italian, like their father, though he was half-Irish.

"You look older, Bells, I don't like it," he said, looking at her. Isabella let out a light laugh. She was petite like their mother, with nearly waist-length raven hair and eyes like blue fire.

"We all get older, it's just a matter of how fast we all mature, right?" she offered with a light smile. He chuckled and opened the door.

"C'mon, let's get you sworn in."

The bullpen was packed with desks, people, computers, and all sorts of attitudes. Isabella followed closely behind her big brother, her eyes wandering around the station curiously.

"Yo, Pacino, who's the babe?" a man jeered at Levi. Her older brother glared at the man as he held on tighter to his younger sister's hand.

"She's the new CSI, Ariel. Back off," he snapped. More whistles and catcalls filled the air as they stepped into a back room, closing the door behind them. A middle-aged woman sat behind a desk and looked Isabella up and down as if she were a horse at auction. She had thin dirty blonde hair with beady hazel eyes and a thin mouth.

"Name, please. Last, middle, and first," she requested, her voice thin and laced with annoyance.

"Pacino, Rae, Isabella," Isabella recited. She fought the urge to fiddle with the zipper on her jacket as she stared down the woman.

"Title?" the other woman asked. The nameplate on her desk read: "Detective Angela O'Donovan".

"Third Grade Crime Scene Investigator," Isabella replied. Detective O'Donovan held up a box and set it in front of her.

"This box carries your service weapon, your badge, your pepper spray, and the hopes of New York City," she informed her. Not being able to resist, Isabella submitted a small chuckle.

"I think I'll need a bigger box," she joked lightly. Detective O'Donovan's eyes narrowed. Levi let out a cough to cover up a snort or a laugh.

"I won't let the NYPD be infiltrated by some young punk who thinks everything is a joke," she snapped. Isabella closed her mouth quickly, but offered no apology. O'Donovan slapped down a clipboard.

"Sign your initials at the bottom, and an officer will take you to the meeting room to take your prints and a sample of your DNA to be entered into the NYPD database," she said, clearly irritated at Isabella's earlier joke. Isabella smirked and took the pen in her left hand, swooping the tip over the page to neatly write 'IRP'. A signature line graced the bottom.

"Do I only initial, or do I sign my name as well?" she asked, looking up.

"Sign your name," O'Donovan snapped.

"Print or cursive?" Isabella asked, fighting a smile. She knew that messing with Detective O'Donovan was going to be fun. When O'Donovan simply glared at her, Isabella scrawled her name at the bottom. If she had dared, she would have dotted her 'i' with a heart. She slapped down the clipboard in the same fashion O'Donovan had before looking at her brother.

"Show me the way, Detective Pacino," she said grandly. Levi's deep brown eyes were sparkling with laughter as she lifted her box. When they opened the door to the office to step out into the bullpen, every eye was on her. They made it halfway through before Isabella dissolved into a fit of laughter. Levi joined her, his deep laugh rumbling in her ear.

"You got some serious balls to do that to the Dragon," he finally managed to gasp out. She wiped her eyes as she giggled.

"Gave her a taste of her own medicine," she said.

"What'd this little lady do to the Dragon?" an officer asked Levi. Her brother laughed again, shaking his head.

"Tell ya in a minute. Right now, she's gotta get her prints and DNA in," he replied, walking her into the room. Two officers were standing near a table with an ink pad, two pieces of tent paper, and cotton swabs. The cold concrete feel made her shiver. Isabella dotted each of her fingers into the ink and one of the officers pressed them to the papers, one square for each fingerprint.

"Open your mouth if you will, please," she requested. Her nametag read 'Stevens'. Isabella obeyed as the inside of her cheek was swabbed. She closed her mouth as the officer closed the swab.

"Welcome to the jungle," Stevens said with a smirk.

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in the lab, unsure of what to do next. Levi had patted her on the head like a kindergartner and walked off back to the precinct. A rush of annoyance flooded through her as she surveyed the lab.<p>

"Well, Pacino, looks like you're on your own," she muttered. It was like surveying the subway during rush hour. Finally, she took a chance and started wandering until she nearly plowed into a man. She stumbled backwards and nearly fell down, but his hand caught her arm. He set her back onto her feet.

"Whoa, watch it," he said. He had dark hair and frost-blue eyes. She brushed herself off, curling her lip.

"I'll be sure to look where I'm going next time," she replied, her voice seething with venom and annoyance. If someone was going to be a jerk about helping her, then don't help at all. She tightened her ponytail and stepped down the hall.

"Do you even know where you going?" the man snapped. She stopped and closed her eyes, hoping her short temper didn't fly off the handle this time. She opened her eyes again and turned on her heel to face him.

"Well, you don't exactly look like the tour-guide type," she retorted, setting her hands on her hips and studying him. He had a good twelve inches on her and had to be almost twice her weight.

"I'm not, but I do know this lab pretty well," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes flicked over her, clearly giving her a once-over. She held her chin up to study him.

"I'm looking for either Detective Mac Taylor or Detective Stella Bonasera," she finally said. The corners of his mouth twitched the beginnings of a smirk.

"Lucky you, I know exactly who and where they are," he replied. She set her jaw, looking up at him from her eyebrows.

"Lemme guess, first things first, you want to know something?" she retorted. Finally, a smirk crossed his features. He was cute, but this little bantering session had to stop.

"Just your name. Though, if you gave me your number with it, I wouldn't be heartbroken," he replied. Her eyes narrowed.

"Isabella Pacino," she said. His eyes widened. He knew her last name.

"Ooh, you're Levi's sister. That explains everything," he said knowingly. She clenched her jaw. He knew Levi.

"Now's the part where you tell me where I get this information from. You can keep your number, I don't want it," she snapped. He pretended to wince.

"Strike one for the new girl. Name's Flack," he replied. Oh, so this was her brother's partner. Isabella crossed her arms over her chest.

"You spoke of the locations of my new bosses," she prompted. Flack let out a laugh.

"Wow, you really are related to Levi. Yeah, they'll be back, they're at the scene. Told me to tell you if I see you to find Aiden Burn and she'll fill you in on the case. If you're nice, I may show you the way," he replied. She raised her eyebrow.

"Well, you were the rude one first," she pointed out. He smirked.

"So close to an apology, newbie," he said. Her temper flared at the term. It was worse than 'rookie', in her book.

"Please?" she exaggerated the last syllable.

"C'mon, shorty, I'll show you around," he relented.


	2. Just The Way I Am

**_A/N: I can just picture these two on the show talking to each other like this...bitchy Isabella never ceases to make me laugh!_**

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><p><em>I'm strange and I like it<em>

_That's just the way I am_

_I can't change, I can't hide it_

_That's just the way I am_

_Might as well get over it_

_Don't try to understand_

_I'm strange and I like it_

_Just the way I am  
><em>

Skye Sweetnam — Just the Way I Am

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><p>Isabella walked onto the crime scene in the park with Detective Taylor. Her heart dropped when she saw Flack, her mind going back to the scene at the lab. She set her jaw, nodding a greeting to him as she passed him. Levi sent her a smile as he looked at her. Isabella returned the smile.<p>

"Detective Flack, Detective Pacino," Detective Taylor greeted Flack and Levi.

"Told you the second I got word. Caucasian female, late twenties, no ID. Guy jogging his dog found her and called 911," Flack said. Isabella glanced at the officer speaking to the man with the dog. A little ribbon proudly graced its pelt.

"I think he's harmless. All about the dog, you know?" his voice broke her concentration.

"Where is she?" Detective Taylor asked. Levi gestured towards a field, leading them there.

"Yo, Mac, I gotta roll out real quick. Some big thing at the precinct," he said. Isabella bit her tongue before shooting off some snarky comment in front of her new boss.

"Like a ninja, right?" she finally commented. Her brother grinned, tugging her ponytail playfully.

"I feel the need to warn you about my sister," he said. She snorted.

"I feel the need to apologize for my brother," she retorted. He gestured to her as if to say "I rest my case." Flack let out a guffaw at his words, causing a dual glare in his direction from the two siblings.

"Go ahead, Levi. I think we'll get along just fine with her," Mac assured him. Isabella gave her older brother a Grinch-grin before giving him a fingertip-wave. He rolled his eyes skywards before walking off. She didn't miss his mutter to his partner.

"Watch out."

Isabella studied the body, tilting her head and rustling for her kit.

"Body's in a characteristic position. Supine. Legs are crossed over, arms flailed out to the side," Mac said, gesturing to the body. Isabella nodded as she looked it over.

"Dump job," she commented. He nodded approvingly to her.

"Raped up?" Flack asked. Mac shook his head.

"She wasn't killed here. No scuff marks on the knees, nails are intact. It appears putrefaction set it, she's starting to bloat up a bit," he replied. Isabella's eyes grazed to Jane Doe's belt, and saw the wear of the leather.

"Which explains the inconsistency of her belt. See the wear? It's two notches off. If the killer redressed her, he did it a considerable amount of time after death," she said, crouching next to the body and pointed to it. Mac seemed a little impressed by her findings. For twenty-four, nearly twenty-five years old, Isabella knew what she was doing and what she was talking about.

"Why would he dress her back up?" Flack asked. Isabella's eyes strayed over to the victim's clothing before settling on the woman's wedding rings. At the same time, Mac lifted the woman's hand.

"I don't know. What I do know, is he took the time," he replied.

"Someone out there's missin' a wife," Isabella murmured.

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><p>Isabella walked down the hall, holding the Tox screen report. Her eyes settled on Mac as she walked over to him. He was walking with a tall brunette and a sandy-haired man.<p>

"Tox came back to Leann Goodman," she said, handing him the paper and leaning back on her heels.

"Drugs?" Mac asked. She shook her head.

"No, but Dr. Hawkes was right about her inhaling something she shouldn't have. Fry sticks," she replied. He raised his eyebrow.

"Cigarettes. What's the additive?" he asked.

"Tox found codeine-based cough syrup with trace levels of nicotine," she replied. The sandy-haired man spoke up.

"Faster the city changes, GHB is as dead as a disco. Fry sticks are the new date-rape drug of New York City. Three puffs, and down goes Frasier," he said. She nearly laughed at the sports term.

"You a new lab tech?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"Danny, this is our new investigator, Isabella Pacino," Mac said, nodding to her. "This is Detective Danny Messer and Detective Aiden Burn." The tall brunette looked her over.

"So, you related to Levi?" she asked. Isabella nodded.

"I am, indeed. He's my brother and I sincerely apologize for any injuries or harm he may have caused," she replied, shaking both hands of Danny and Aiden. Aiden smiled.

"He's not too bad, though he has warned us about you," she said. Isabella returned Aiden's smile.

"Like I said, he feels the need to warn people about me, I feel the need to apologize about him," she replied. Returning back to work, she looked up at Mac.

"What's weird is that the rape kit came back as negative. Why give someone a date-rape drug and not rape?" she mused.

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><p>Don stepped into the lab where he saw the petite CSI's head in her hands, focusing intently on the screen. Her pretty blue eyes seemed deep in concentration, but tired.<p>

"You know, you're gonna have to do more than just stare at it," he commented. Letting out a squeak, she whirled around to face him. A soft stain of light pink stained her porcelain complexion as her slender hand flew to her throat.

"God bless America, you scared me," she breathed. At the Southern term, he chuckled a tad.

"That wasn't my intention," he assured her. She straightened herself before looking up at him.

"Was there something you needed?" she asked, looking up at him from her long eyelashes. Don could barely see the resemblance between her and Levi. Her older brother looked tough and scary, she hardly looked scarier than a kitten. At a glance, one could tell they were related, but only distantly. Once the two became comfortable, it was easy to tell they were brother and sister.

"Nah, I was just looking for Danny, then I remembered. He's out with Aiden on the garbage barge," he replied. She sighed, her hands resting on her hips.

"They're probably cursin' my name as we speak. I know that's rookie work and here I am in the lab, while they're out doing the dirty work," she said. Don noticed how her upper lip curled as she spoke the word 'rookie.'

"You look almost disgusted by that," he commented. Her eyes were such an unusual color, like blue fire. A smirk crossed her pretty features as she shook her head.

"I'm more of a field mouse than a lab rat. Trust me, given half a chance, I would've gone with 'em," she replied, her face turning outside.

"But, lemme guess, Mac wanted you to familiarize yourself with the surroundings of the lab first?" he guessed. A wry chuckle escaped her lips as she nodded.

"I guess so," she replied. The beep of the computer caught her attention and she turned to it. He picked up his ringing phone and answered it.

"Flack," he addressed the caller.

"Hey, Flack, we got info on Zoya Pavlova. With an address," Levi said, rattling off the address in Brooklyn. Don nodded.

"Alright, I'm at the lab, I'll go tell Mac," he replied. He snapped his phone shut, settling it back onto its holster.

"Hey, you seen Mac?" he asked Isabella. She nodded, looking over at him.

"I believe he's in autopsy. If he's not, then I have no clue," she replied. "I'm about eighty percent sure."

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><p>Isabella checked her watch before clocking out of the lab. It was the end of her shift, the end of her first case. They were able to cinch the killer, after he had taken three victims.<p>

"Not bad work on that case, Isabella," Aiden commented. Isabella felt her face warm a bit.

"Thanks. Sorry I wasn't able to go barge-diving with you," she said. Aiden smirked.

"You missed out on a unique bonding experience," she replied. Isabella felt a giggle in her chest.

"You know you've seen all of New York once you've been on a barge, am I right?" she said. Aiden patted the woman's shoulder as she walked out.

"You're a strange one, shorty," she told her. Isabella's turn for a smirk.

"Yeah, but that's just the way I am," she replied.


	3. Friends In Low Places

**_A/N: So...while looking up something, I saw an ad for something called 'Caestry'. Its tagline was "Click here for a Roman orgy." I was all: "0.o The hell?" I swear...I almost clicked it out of curiosity...  
><em>**

**_bel canto bueno: So glad you're enjoying the story, your reviews are always so encouraging :3_**

**_SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Ha ha, yeah...the first meeting of 'Flacino'. I'm glad I redid ROA, too. It just seemed too rushed for my tastes. Glad you're loving this side of Isabella!  
><em>**

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><p><em>Blame it all on my roots<br>I showed up in boots  
>And ruined your black-tie affair<em>

_Yeah, I'm not big on social graces  
>Think I'll slip on down to the oasis<br>Oh, I've got friends in low places  
><em>

Garth Brooks — Friends In Low Places

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><p>Isabella pursed her lips as she maneuvered Levi's truck expertly throughout traffic. This was a suspected rape, so this wasn't his scene. She flicked on her turn signal, laying on her horn as someone cut her off. Garth Brooks' song 'Friends In Low Places' echoed throughout the cab of the truck as she growled.<p>

"God, give me strength," she grumbled crankily. Finally, she parked the truck and shut off the engine, sliding the keys out of the ignition and stuffing them into her pocket. As she stepped out of the truck, she immediately felt too casual at work. It was night, she wore a pair of jeans, a pair of black cowboy boots, and a long-sleeved white T-shirt under a shorter sleeved Guns N' Roses band shirt. Her badge hung from her belt as her leather jacket kept her warm.

"Nice to see you dressed up, shorty," Danny commented. She rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Danny," she returned as she pulled her kit out of the back of the Avalanche. "I nearly had to start picking snobby Fords out of my brother's grill." Her attention turned on a young woman, trembling near the hood of a shiny car.

"Good luck. She won't let anyone near her without freaking out," Danny informed her. Ignoring him, Isabella stepped closer, her palms out. Letting the woman know she wasn't a threat. She had worked with rape victims in the past, she knew how to get them to trust her.

"Hey, sweetie, what's your name?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet. The young woman immediately started trembling, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered. Isabella slid on a pair of gloves slowly, offering her hand out to the young woman.

"My name is Detective Pacino," she said softly. "This isn't your fault, darlin', you got nothin' to be sorry for." With those words, the woman clasped her hand and stood up.

"Tell my dad I'm sorry I'm late," she whimpered. Isabella slid her arm over the woman's shoulder and onto a gurney.

"What's your name?" she asked. Finally, the woman's wounded brown eyes settled on Isabella's.

"R-Robin. Robin P-P-P-Prescott," she replied. Isabella didn't break eye contact with the victim as she snapped her fingers for someone to write it down. "You have such pretty eyes. I always wished I could have blue eyes."

Isabella smiled. "Your eyes are pretty on their own, hon. Let's get you to a hospital so we can figure out just what happened," she said gently. She had been a sexual assault investigator before going into Crime Scene, she had dealt with rape victims on a daily basis. She closed the door to the bus and tapped it, signaling for the ambulance to leave.

"How the hell did you do that?" Danny asked. Isabella smiled.

"A lot of rape victims will trust women over men. I've had experience with this field," she responded. She had walked the line as a beat cop for six months prior to being taken in as a detective when she had been first to arrive to a rape victim's crime scene. After being taught more about it, plus ballistics, she had opted to go for CSU, as they had called it in Wilmington.

"I'll follow the bus to the hospital," she told Stella. The older woman's eyes followed the ambulance before nodding.

"I'll follow soon after," she replied. Isabella nodded and looked around the extravagant building before shaking her head. A blue-collar girl at heart, she couldn't pull off the blue-blood lifestyle.

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><p>Isabella pounded her foot onto the gas pedal, veering the Chevy truck in and out of traffic. Horns and yells blared behind her, but she ignored it. At a stoplight, she fumbled for Levi's police light. After finding it under her seat, she flicked it on and set it on the dashboard. Once the light hit green, she stepped on the pedal and veered throughout traffic considerably faster. There were some angry beeps as she maneuvered the large truck, but she had learned to ignore them. When the hospital came into view, she tore across the road and pulled into the drive. Flicking off the siren and turning off the engine, she hopped out and walked into the hospital. Isabella flashed her badge and requested Robin Prescott. An orderly nodded down the hall.<p>

"Ma'am, she's not well," a nurse said as Isabella stood outside the room. Isabella set down her kit and held up her badge.

"I'm gonna have to see some ID," the nurse said, looking her up and down. Clearly taking in the T-shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots. Isabella pulled out her wallet and flipped it open.

"What's next, my credentials? 'Cause I can call my boss right now," she quipped bitchily. The nurse snorted and stepped aside. Curling her lip at the nurse, Isabella stepped into the room. When her blue gaze caught the victim, her heart immediately went out to her. After dealing with rape victims on a day-to-day basis, it was a sight Isabella Pacino could never get used to.

"Robin? It's me, Detective Pacino," she called softly. The young woman's head turned to face her, her eyes sad and confused.

"Hi," she rasped. Isabella set down her crime scene case and slid on a pair of gloves to shake the woman's hand.

"There's another detective on her way, I'm here to prepare you for a processing. Are you comfortable with me taking pictures of your hands and your bruises?" she asked gently, stroking the woman's hand with a thumb. Robin nodded.

"I don't even know what happened," she whispered. "What all are you going to do?" Isabella bit her lip.

"I'm going to scrape trace from under your fingernails, swab and take pictures of your wounds, as well as take a sexual assault kit with your consent," she replied. Robin's eyes glimmered with tears.

"Do you really think I was raped?" she asked. Isabella bit her lip, unable to respond.

"That's what we're trying to find out, sweetie. If you feel uncomfortable, we'll do it at your pace," she replied.

"Will you stay here?" Robin asked. Isabella nodded.

"Yes, I will," she replied. "Are you willing to consent to a sexual assault test?" Robin nodded.

"I don't remember anything about what happened," she confessed. Her woeful brown eyes looked up at the petite CSI. "Is that normal?"

Isabella nodded. "It's not uncommon. Your mind may be blocking out some things from the event," she answered. The sound of a knock on the door caused her head to raise. Her blue eyes settled on Stella.

"Robin, this is Detective Stella Bonasera, she's a crime scene investigator like me," she said, nodding to the other woman.

"I'll try to be gentle, Robin," Stella told the other woman gently. Isabella stood up and gathered the tools for the examination.

"Ready when you are," she told the Greek woman.

* * *

><p>"How long have you been a cop?" Stella asked Isabella as they walked through the hospital cafeteria. Isabella blushed a little as she carried a cup of green tea in her hands.<p>

"I entered the academy at nineteen, just after I finished college. My TO was a rape detective and thought I had potential as a sexual assault detective, so I only walked the line about six months," she replied.

"I read your file, it's very impressive. How does one go from being a sexual assault investigator to being a ballistics expert in CSI?" Stella said. Isabella smiled shyly.

"It turned out I was qualified to be a CSI after I went to a scene with a rape victim. There was a dead body there and the victim had shot her rapist in self-defense, and I had helped prove how it happened. Then, my old boss finally looked at me and says "Pacino, for everything, there is a season. I believe you could be one hell of a CSU agent if you had the right training. Wanna do it?" and I had originally disagreed to it. My CO was a little miffed that the head of the crime lab had offered me a spot, but he eventually convinced me to go for it," she replied.

"How do you like working with your brother?" Stella asked. Isabella drummed her fingers on her coffee cup, twisting her mouth in thought.

"It's different," she responded. "To me, Levi's always going to be my goofy older brother. To see such a professional side of him will always be very strange to me."

"It's hard to see Levi as anything but a straight-laced country boy," Stella commented. Isabella laughed.

"Oh, the things he did growing up...I don't know how he ever made it this far in such a serious job," she replied. She and her brother would never belong in high society. She had found that out when she had lived in Ireland with her grandparents after high school to learn how to be a proper Irish dignitary, despite her being biracial. The studies of fence and weaponry had captivated her, much to the distaste of her grandmother and grandparents.

"It'll be interesting to watch you both around each other. You have too much on the other for things to ever get too serious," Stella said. Isabella smiled.

"It'll be interesting that I don't wind up jumping at my brother's throat because he tries to prove me wrong," she countered.


	4. Watch Me Shine

**_A/N: Time to write more...I love all my reviewers, my readers...and the lurkers ;D You know who you are...  
><em>**

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><p><em>Better watch out, I'm goin' for the knockout<em>

_And I won't stop till I'm on top now_

_Not gonna give up until I get what's mine_

_Better check that I'm about to upset_

_And I'm up now, so you'd better step back_

_I'm taking over, so watch me shine  
><em>

Joanna Pacitti — Watch Me Shine (Ironic, huh?)

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><p>Isabella was quiet in the squad car while she and Flack drove for Ramon's Restaurant.<p>

"Sheesh, can you stop talking for a minute? You're talking my head off here," he said, trying to spark a conversation. She glanced over at him and scoffed.

"Would you rather I sang random boy bands at the top of my lungs?" she asked. He laughed as they pulled into the drive.

"Anything would be better than silence, small one," he replied. She turned her head to glare at him.

"Whether or not you're my brother's partner and friend, I will not hesitate to smack you if you call me anything referring to my height," she informed him. He parked the car.

"Somehow, I believe you would," he replied. Isabella slid out of the car, closing the door behind her. She walked beside him into the restaurant. The manager looked at them pointedly, holding a datebook.

"Dinner for two?" he asked, his eyes on Isabella's chest. The gesture made her skin crawl, along with giving her a new need to change into something more conservative than a powder blue V-neck sweater and snug-fitting pinstripe trousers. The sides of her long hair was pinned up, making her look a lot more professional than her attire the night before. She opened her blazer to reveal her service weapon attached to her hip and her NYPD badge clipped to her belt. The manager's eyes widened.

"You got anyone here that wears a nose ring?" Flack asked. The manager locked gazes with him and nodded.

"Donovan Tracey. He's the dish-washer," he replied, gesturing to the back. Isabella gave him a curt nod before stepping around the podium and walking towards the kitchen.

"I don't want any trouble, officers," the manager called. Looking over her shoulder, she smirked.

"Likewise," she replied. She opened the door and looked around.

"Donovan Tracey? NYPD," she called. The next thing she knew, she was on her ass after being bum-rushed by something solid. Her eyes snapped upwards and she stuck out her leg to trip him. When the simple leg-out didn't work, she leaped to her feet and tore after him. A cart was thrown in front of her, but she jumped over it neatly. The years of martial-arts classes she had taken had kicked in and she saw him as a target; an enemy. He stumbled over a broomstick and Isabella lunged, tackling him down and straddling his back.

"You made me break my promise, Donovan. I said I wouldn't give people trouble and you gave me trouble," she snarled, jerking him to his feet. Flack finally caught up to them, panting.

"What the hell kinda academy taught you all that?" he panted. She smirked, shoving the suspect roughly out of the door.

"The Academy of Pacinos. Taught by Armando Pacino Jr the Second and Third," she replied, feeling a bit out of breath herself. It had been a while since she'd had to pursue a suspect. She had nearly forgotten how exhausting it was.

* * *

><p>Isabella sat back in the observation room while Danny and Flack took on Donovan Tracey. She played with the ends of her hair, her ass still sore from connecting with the hard stone floor of the restaurant.<p>

"Heard all about how you went all cop on a suspect, honeybee. Nice work," Levi muttered into her ear. She smirked.

"I have my first bruise on the job. My ass is gonna be sore for the next week," she replied. Her brother tossed his arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

"Just be careful. You can't be jumping on people because they run from you," he told her. She rolled her eyes skywards at the statement.

"I think it gives me some pretty solid justification to do that," she said. There were bruises starting to form on Donovan Tracey's chin from her pursuit. He was vehemently denying having anything to do with the rape, which was to be expected.

"Wanna give it a shot, new girl? You've had experience in this field," Stella offered. Isabella looked up at the older woman in astonishment.

"Really?" she asked, excitement starting to mound. Stella nodded and Isabella slipped out of the interrogation room. Now, she had a lot to prove. Her older brother was watching her.

"Donovan Tracey, I'm Detective Pacino, crime scene investigator," she announced, stepping in once the break was over. Donovan glared at her.

"I'm sorry about my first impression on you, but in my defense, you knocked me onto my ass." Harsher glaring.

"Sorry, am I too feisty for you, or do you prefer the ones in heels with money?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips and studying the African-American man.

"I ain't talkin' to a short bitch cop," he finally snarled. The insult of 'short bitch' went over her head.

"If I had a dime for every time someone referred to me as 'short bitch cop', I'd be one of the richest women in the world," she informed him, sitting down in the chair opposite him.

"Then maybe, instead of busting my chops on something I didn't do, you should invest in some lifts or some crazy-ass surgery that makes you taller," he retorted. She smirked.

"The funniest little thing happened today...we found your nose ring in Central Park, near where a young woman was raped," she said, leaning onto her elbows. He shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, no, shorty, you got it all wrong," he said, waving his hands to shut down the idea. She rolled her eyes.

"What I have is proof," she snorted, holding up an evidence baggie. She flipped open the file and slapped down photos. Annoyance flashed through her veins as she stared him down. Isabella knew she looked downright dangerous at that moment, because he flinched backwards.

"She was passed out when I got there!" he defended himself. Clenching her fists, she stood up, glaring down at him. "I didn't rape her!"

Her jaw set. "What _did_ you see?" she demanded. She had seen many rapists and scumbags and they all sang the same song in the same old tune.

"Her handbag," he admitted. Getting a hold of herself, she leaned back onto her heels. She looked up at Flack, nodding for him to ask a question.

"So, to get our heads wrapped around this, you're not a rapist, you're just a thief?" he asked, coming to stand beside her. Donovan smirked.

"A little something like that, yeah," he replied. Isabella drew herself to her full five feet two inches, glaring down at Donovan.

"You know, they call me a human lie-detector for a reason," she said, planting her hands on her hips. "I can pick an honest man amongst a field of liars."

"Then, you'd know that I'm innocent! I didn't rape her!" he begged. A smirk crossed her features.

"You know, I'm more apt to believe the boots you wore yesterday," she said. "And a sperm sample."

Tossing him a cup, her smirk spread into a full-blown smile. "Need help or a magazine?" she quipped.

* * *

><p>"You looked like you were about to deck that guy," Don commented, surveying the smaller woman. He was definitely seeing her more vibrant colors, and he found he was starting to like them. She was funny, once she loosened up.<p>

"It took every bit of self-control to not deck him," Isabella admitted. They were standing outside of the precinct with coffee, a swizzle stick sticking out of the left side of her mouth s she gnawed on it.

"Hard to believe someone like you was able to pull all of that off," he said, shrugging. Don could feel her blue-flame eyes on him as she looked up at him.

"Is it because I'm short or because I'm a woman?" she asked. He chuckled.

"Neither. You're pretty damn young and green to be able to pull off that interrogation," he replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pretty smile starting to blossom on her features.

"I've had a lot of experience," she said. He looked over at her. Her cheeks were rosy from the chilly early autumn air, her raven hair pulled back into a tight ponytail high on her head.

"You can't be more than twenty-two, twenty-three years old," he said. A soft laugh overtook her.

"I'm twenty-four, turning twenty-five in December," she replied. He smirked.

"What kind of comedy are you into?" he asked. He could tell by her eyes that she was someone who enjoyed laughing and making others laugh with her.

"Stand-up, mostly. Jeff Dunham and Dane Cook kill me every time," she replied. "You?"

"Old TV. Hogan's Heroes, I Love Lucy, Laverne and Shirley," he said, rattling off a few old shows. Her smile broadened.

"Happy Days is the best," she declared. He hadn't mentioned 'Happy Days', for fear of sounding too old-school.

"The Fonz is a hero to all guys out there," he agreed. She giggled.

"I remember when me and Levi were younger, he kept trying to fix things by hitting them. Nearly broke Mama's sewing machine I don't know how many times," she said, her pretty eyes sparkling with laughter.

"I can picture him doing that. Though, he's managed to get stuff working by hitting it," he replied. She laughed again.

"Has he broken anything?" she asked, an amused look on her face. He shook his head.

"Nope. Nearly broke the Dragon's filing cabinet once upon a time, but that's it," he replied. He had heard about Isabella's little bantering session with Detective O'Donovan. She scoffed.

"I would've done it," she said. "On purpose."

"Boy, you really don't want her to like you, do you?" he asked rhetorically. The same silly smile remained on her face.

"Flack, in the week that you've known me...do I look like the kind of person who cares whether or not people like her?" she countered.


	5. Get Out Alive

**_A/N: I will be going back Friday, land of late updates...  
><em>**

**_But I digress!_**

**_SM-FA-RaiNtrain: I always love your reviews, too! You always make my night :) I wanted to give Isabella a bit more of an...edge. I thought you'd like the part about the old TV shows, writing that made me feel so nostalgic! I love Golden Girls, too! Glad you like them together_**

**_bel canto bueno: So happy you like this story! Thanks for reviewing :)  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>'No time for goodbye', he said<em>

_As he faded away_

_Don't put your life in someone's hands_

_They're bound to steal it away_

_Don't hide from your mistakes_

_'Cause they'll find you, burn you_

_Then he said_

_'If you wanna get out alive_

_Ooh, run for your life'  
><em>

Three Days Grace — Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella took the steps towards her newly rented apartment. She felt a rush of pride at the words 'her apartment'. It was hers, by right. A wide smile crossed her features as she slid inside. Granted, it was in the Bronx, not exactly prime real-estate, but it was <em>hers<em>. She had picked it out, she was paying the rent. She was able to decorate it how she wanted. Isabella took the stairs towards the fourth floor, where her door was cracked slightly. Her eyes widened as she stepped down the hall, pulling her handgun out of her bag. There was movement behind the door. She flicked the safety off and kicked open the door. Everything was turned over, glass was shattered. Her TV remained, her stereo was still there. Looking by the couch, her laptop remained in the crook of the end table and the sofa. Stepping around the mess, she saw her bedroom door was open. Her mattress and box-springs were overturned, her dresser was on the floor. Her jewelry box was on the floor, its contents spilled out. A wave of nausea washed over her as she walked through the bedroom.

She pulled her cellphone out and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" a peppy male voice echoed over the line.

"This is Detective Isabella Pacino requesting backup," she replied, rattling off her address. There was movement in the closet.

"Suspect may still be on the premises, I want that backup STAT." She hung up her phone, sliding it into her pocket. Holding up the Glock, she stood in front of the closet.

"NYPD, show yourself," she ordered. She could hear sirens in the distance and she clutched her gun tightly. Slowly, the closet door opened. Out of nowhere, something lunged and knocked her back. Isabella let out a squeak as she wrestled with her attacker. She couldn't see his face, but he was big and heavy. He held her down, trying to get at her Glock. She was on her back and her legs were pinned. Thinking on her feet, or her back, she slid her Glock as far away from her as she could. Her right hand was free and she used that opportunity to hit the man as hard as she could. She missed his jaw, her fist hitting the air.

"If you want to get out alive, run for your life," an Irish accent snarled in her ear. Her fist connected with his head and she shoved him off of her. When her foot connected with his gut, he swore in Irish. Blood trickled from her lip as she readied herself for him to hurl himself at her.

"Filthy biracial slut," he sneered.

"Tar isteach agus mé a fháil, ansin," she flashed back. Her left eye was starting to swell. She knew she was going to have one hell of a shiner for the next few days.

[Come and get me, then]

Isabella could see he was around medium-height and large build. Very strong. He had a shock of dark hair with dark eyes. He was clearly from southern Ireland. At that moment, her door was opened. Immediately, she felt an arm around her neck, pinning her to his chest. Where the hell had the second guy come from?

"NYPD, release the officer!" a uniform yelled. She felt the cold metal of a gun's barrel pressed to her temple.

"Má ghluaiseann duine ar bith, beidh sí inchinn a chur ar an urlár!" the second guy yelled. Isabella wriggled against her assailant before trying to sink her teeth into his forearm. He wore a thick sweater, her teeth feeling more like a caress on the muscular arm than painful.

[If anyone moves, her brain will be on the floor!]

* * *

><p>Don was sitting in the squad car, waiting for Levi.<p>

_"This is Officer Ariel, requesting backup! Officer in trouble!" _a crackled, muffled voice came over the scanner. The address was in the Bronx. Immediately, Don picked up the walkie-talkie and pressed the 'call' button.

"This is Detective Flack, what is the nature of this emergency?" he asked, his tone authoritative. He removed his thumb from the call button to listen closely.

_"Break-in gone wrong, CSI in danger, I repeat, requesting backup STAT," _Ariel replied. There was only one CSI who lived in the Bronx. Isabella Pacino.

"Is a bus needed?" Don asked. There was static before a reply.

_"Yes. Get two buses out here immediately," _Ariel replied. Shit. Don jumped over into the driver's seat, pulling out his cellphone and dialing Levi's number.

"Your sister's in some deep shit, ese. We gotta go _now_. Meet me there," he said to the voice-mail. He backed the car up, swinging it around.

"This is Detective Flack, requesting a bus," he said into the walkie-talkie, giving off the address. He flicked on the sirens, hearing another squad car not far behind him. Levi.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, the two men grabbed their Kevlar vests from the back, strapping them on securely.

"You got the call on the scanner, too?" Levi said as they took the stairs. Don nodded, pulling the door open.

"Ariel said something about a CSI in danger, and there's only one CSI who lives in the Bronx," he replied. There were yells coming from the end of the hall. And then, gunfire.

* * *

><p>Levi and Don charged through the door. Don's eyes settled on a wide-open bedroom door. The entire apartment was ransacked as he stepped over the shattered glass. There was a man being led away in cuffs, one man holding his gut, pressing onto the wound, and a woman on the floor. It felt like Don was being dunked repeatedly in ice-cold water as he recognized the limp frame of Isabella.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>[Prior to the gunfire]<strong>

"Shoot them!" Isabella commanded as she writhed against her attacker. The barrel pressed closer to her temple as she fought with her attacker. The officers were poising their guns on the men, commanding them to stand down.

"We don't have a clear shot!" an officer wailed. Finally, Isabella got a hold of the gun and twisted it against her attacker. The gun kicked as it fired off. Something heavy crashed over her head as she fell down.

Everything was black as she felt her body being shaken. She lifted her head, her vision blurry.

"L-Levi?" she croaked. It was indeed her brother.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, gently moving her hair aside. "Can you walk?" he asked. She nodded, trying to stand up. Immediately, she slumped back down.

"My head hurts so bad," she whispered, her head throbbing in pain.

"Flack, she's had a concussion," Levi said, looking upwards. Her eyes sluggishly followed his gaze to settle on Don Flack, her eyelids fluttering. She wanted to close her eyes so badly.

"No, keep those pretty eyes of yours open, Izzy," her brother urged. She felt hands along her spine and the back of her neck.

"Flack, hold up her head so I can check for other injuries," he commanded. Isabella felt cool hands on her feverish skin as her head was lifted from her floor. Her brother continued pressing on key points in her spine and along the back of her neck.

"No injuries to her back," Levi murmured. Isabella's eyelids were drooping and she felt Flack pat her face.

"C'mon, shorty. Let me see those blue eyes," she heard him urge her. He was turning her face to check for injuries.

"Split lip, black eye, bruises starting to form on her face," he commented. Her head felt like lead, her eyelids feeling like cement.

"You should see the other guy," she rasped out. He chuckled. Her eyes finally settled on his face, blurred from lack of vision.

"C'mon, let's get her to the bus," he said, rolling her onto her back and scooping her up into his arms. She grunted as he stood back up, keeping her securely in his arms.

"Remind me to slap you over the head," she requested, her voice a little more coherent. Trying to get motor movement in her arms, she tried to hold onto him as Flack carried her down the stairs. For someone so arrogant and self-confident, his touch was so contradictory to his personality.

"Sure thing, Lionheart," he replied.

* * *

><p>Don watched Levi pace restlessly out of the hospital room. They were examining Isabella currently. She had had a mild concussion, bruised ribs, a black eye, and a split lip. At first glance, it looked like robbery gone wrong. The NYPD had taken in her assailant to get checked. He was worse off than Isabella was, with bruised ribs, two broken teeth, two black eyes, a sprained wrist, and a limp.<p>

"Good girl, Izzy," Levi murmured upon hearing the news of the assailant's injury. It turned out, he had diplomatic immunity in the US. He worked as a consultant for a dignitary in Ireland. They couldn't arrest Seamus McLean for aggravated insult on an officer, breaking and entering, or vandalism.

"We can count our blessings that she's safe," Don offered quietly. His partner nodded, raking a hand through his shaggy dark hair. The door opened, revealing Mac Taylor.

"What's the news with her?" he asked. Levi looked up.

"She's got bruised ribs, a black eye, a split lip, and a concussion. Otherwise, she's fine," he replied.

"Did they get whoever did this to her?" Mac asked. Don nodded.

"He's actually worse off than her, believe it or not," he replied.

"Doc said there was no permanent damage, she's fine now. Currently, she's on painkillers because she's in a lot of pain right now," Levi added.

"Can we see her?" Mac asked. Levi shook his head.

"They want her to rest for awhile," he replied. "Luckily, nothing was stolen from her apartment. It was ransacked all to hell, though."

"We can just be happy that she's safe and moderately sound," Levi sighed.


	6. Healing

**_A/N: Aww, don't worry, y'all! Isabella's okay C: Sorry I wasn't able to update last night, I was very busy with my Friday night. I have been up since three...God help us all...by the way, Ian is Isabella's twin brother. Levi is her older brother.  
><em>**

**_SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Hmm, I like where you're going with that, you just gave me an idea! Lol, thanks for the review!_**

**_bel canto bueno: It's too early in the story to kill her off, silly! Thanks for reviewing :3_**

* * *

><p><em>It taught her a lesson that she learned<em>

_Maybe a little too well_

_Cowgirls don't cry, ride, baby, ride_

_Lessons of life are gonna show you in time_

_Soon enough, you're gonna know why_

_It's gonna hurt every now and then_

_If you fell, get back on again_

_Cowgirls don't cry  
><em>

Brooks and Dunn — Cowgirls Don't Cry

* * *

><p>"Alright, Isabella, your vitals look good. Your ribs are gonna be sore as hell, your lip's gonna sting like hell, and your swollen eye won't go down for a while," Dr. Cavanaugh said. Isabella rolled her good eye skywards from her bed. Her bad eye currently had a gel eye-patch to it. She looked like a crackpot pirate.<p>

"Geez, Doc, what's next? My kitten's dead?" she quipped dryly. She was aching everywhere and it put her into a very bad mood. She rubbed her right side, flinching at the pain. The entire right side of her ribcage was dotted with bruises that hurt like a bitch to the touch. The left side was more fortunate.

"No, but you'll need to be under care. I'm not gonna give you a sign-off to go back to work until that eye stops swelling and those bruises go down," he replied. Ross Cavanaugh was a middle-aged man with sandy blonde hair and gray eyes. He looked like someone had gotten a little too happy with plastic surgery.

"Dammit! I can take care of myself, I don't need a baby-sitter!" Isabella protested, slamming her fists into the sheets. Her brother rolled his eyes.

"Forgive her, she's unpleasant," he told the doctor, who chuckled.

"No worries. Is there anyone she can stay with, someone who can look after her a bit?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked. Levi nodded.

"Yeah, she'll stay with me. Her apartment is still currently a crime scene," he answered. Isabella set her jaw. She wasn't going to condone being looked after like a helpless child.

"You have a roommate, Levi. How're Flack and Gunner gonna like me crashing on the couch?" she asked, her good eye settling on him. Gunner was Levi's beagle.

"Flack won't care if you're crashing on the couch, honeybee. Gunner will just sleep in my room," he replied. Dr. Cavanaugh clapped his hands, rubbing them together.

"Alright, I'll go write up the release forms. Isabella, I hope to see you next week for your checkup. If everything goes well, you should be able to return to work after that," he said.

"Fine," she growled, crossing her arms over her chest. She let out a squeak as her arms came in contact with the tender bruises.

"Here's some clothes. Think you can get dressed by yourself?" Levi asked, tossing her a plastic bag.

"I'll be fine, smartass," she retorted.

* * *

><p>Now fully dressed, Isabella felt much better. Her long hair was twisted into a ponytail over her shoulder, her split lip the least of her worries. People stared slack-jawed at the eye-patch as she walked out of the hospital.<p>

"Alright, Patchy, where to next?" Flack joked. He was on her blind side, which was making her nervous. She turned to face him.

"Seriously? I'm not in the mood," she growled. When she felt a tug on her ponytail, she balked.

"He's trying to be nice, Isabella. Hard to believe your sense of humor got damaged in the attack," her brother scolded.

"Look on the bright side. You're officially a New Yorker," Flack said. Isabella snorted.

"Yeah, I'm living the dream," she replied sarcastically. Because of her blind spot, she hadn't seen the branch coming before it whacked her in the forehead. She skittered back a couple of steps, grabbing the branch and ripping it off the tree. Loud guffaws of laughter ensued.

"Flack, stay on my good side. You're making me nervous being in my blind spot," she said, moving so he remained on her right side.

"I sense a double meaning to your words," he fired back. She scoffed.

"Smart lad," she replied.

* * *

><p>It was odd seeing the blinder patch on Isabella. She clearly looked uncomfortable as they took the steps to the apartment Levi and Don shared.<p>

"Gunner, get down!" Levi commanded as they slipped into the apartment. The overexcited pup jumped eagerly on the new arrival, causing Isabella to yelp. Finally, the petite woman held him down, firmly reprimanding him. Finally, Gunner crawled along his belly, his tail wagging in a peace offering. Don chuckled and rubbed Gunner's side. Immediately, the puppy wriggled against the taller man's legs, begging for attention.

"Here, let me see your eye," Levi said. Isabella scrunched her face and lifted the eye-patch. Don politely looked away, trying not to grimace at the ugly bruising that swelled her left eye shut. How the hell she had survived that ordeal with only those injuries, he didn't know.

"You think my eye's bad, you should see my ribs," she said quietly.

"Sorry, I thought you wouldn't want me to look at your eye," he explained. A soft smile crossed her features.

"I understand, it's okay," she replied. Levi put the eye-patch back on and had her sit down. "Just don't come up to me on my left side, and you'll be fine."

"When you're all healed up, the two of us should spar. You'd be one hell of a training partner," Don said. She chuckled.

"I think she'd give you a run for your money, Flack. Isabella's a damn good fighter," Levi replied, nudging his little sister. Don knew Levi hadn't been around a lot while Isabella was growing up. There was an eight-year age gap between the two. Her smile widened.

"Well, you and Daddy taught me everything I know," she remarked. There was a long road to recovery ahead of her, but she hadn't shed a tear, surprisingly. Don felt a hand go over his head.

"That's for calling me 'shorty'," she said. And a solid punch to the forearm. "That's for calling me 'Patchy'." He rubbed his arm.

"Yep, I think she's got a chance at beating me," he said. She smirked.

"A chance? Flack, I've beaten you to a suspect," she pointed out. He had to admit, he liked her arrogance.

"Ah, but don't count your chickens before they hatch, Pacino. I could very well still kick your ass," he replied.

* * *

><p>To say it was awkward to be living with two men was an understatement. Constantly worrying if she was stepping on any toes, or about to walk into something very...awkward. Isabella kept mostly to herself, picking up after herself and Levi. She cleaned up the apartment, feeling a lot better once it was spotless. Also, keeping a close eye on what she was wearing to be appropriate. It was uncomfortable to wear shorts or tank tops around Flack. Or to see him walk around without a shirt on.<p>

"Izzy, you're my sister, not my maid. You may be saving me an assload of money by cooking, but you don't have to," Levi said, sitting down on the easy chair. Isabella smirked, nodding to the mismatched furniture. She had laid out clean sheets in an attempt to create an upholstery cover for the area. Gunner's bed was freshly laundered. The sofa bed was neatly tucked away into the couch.

"I know, but I'm staying here and not working, so I may as well do something," she replied, feeling the cool sheets under her thighs. Finally, she had mustered up enough courage to wear nearly knee-length shorts, but nothing shorter.

"Hey, if you insist, I'll pick up stuff to make Nonna's lasagna," he suggested with a wink. Isabella laughed. It had been three days since coming back from the hospital, and she could finally stop wearing the eye-patch. Her lip was fully healed.

"Well, as soon as I get the green-light, I'm goin' back to work and won't have time to wait on y'all. Then you'll have to deal with Chinese takeout and convenience store food," she said.

"Unless I tether you here," he replied. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm already looking for a new place. Some place closer to work," she said. A Grinch-grin was starting to form on her brother's face. It was a conspiratorial grin, she knew.

"You know, honeybee...the apartment across the hall is vacant. I'm on good terms with my superintendent if you want me to give him a call," he suggested. Isabella sat up straighter.

"Tell me more about this apartment," she urged him. She would be living closer to her brother. It would be safer for her to live near him.

"It's got two bedrooms, one bathroom, pet-approved, hardwood floors, and a dishwasher, appliances included," he replied. She smiled. This place sounded perfect for her.

"Can you schedule a walk-through sometime soon? It sounds incredible," she requested. He nodded, ruffling her hair.

"Yep. It'd be good for you to live so close. That way, I can keep my eye on you both on the clock and off the clock," he replied.

"Hey, you just need to knock and wait for an answer, big brother. I can hardly wait to see the place," she said.


	7. Sparring

_**A/N: I dunno, y'all..should I just cut the sexual tension short and just get Don and Izzy together? I think I'll stick it out a bit...**_

_**Words from my wonderful reviewers~  
><strong>_

_**ExodusBeteNoire: Ha ha, doesn't everyone? There would be so many homeless minds if the gutter ever decided to shut down, lol. I'm very excited about the sparring session myself. I've been going over it in my head over what's going to happen, I think it'll surprise even myself! Sparring violence is the perfect way to ease sexual tension without the sex, in my opinion! Then again, sex itself is the perfect solution for that kinda tension ;D**_

_**bel canto bueno: Lol, Levi and Isabella are actually very much alike my brother and me. They're very close, but still have that whole "Mom, Levi did this!" or "Mom, Isabella did that!" air about them**_

* * *

><p><em>Ooh, I know you are checkin' on me<em>

_I should be checkin' on you, ooh_

_Gimme the green-light, I'm ready to go_

_Here at the start-line, I'm breaking the rope_

_I'm gonna take you, I'm gonna shake you_

_No one's gonna lose walkin' in my shoes_

_Won't stop at the red-light, I'm on a roll_

Camp Rock 2 Soundtrack (Don't judge me) — Walkin' In My Shoes

* * *

><p>Isabella curled her body into a sit-up, gritting her teeth as her thighs met her bare midriff. Her bruises were still slightly tender, which made her morning workout very difficult. She was given the green-light to work out in the precinct gym, where she was currently. Her iPod played Aerosmith through earbuds in her ears, tucking in the safety of her sports-bra, between her breasts. She stood up and leaned backwards in an arc. Her hands touched the mat, her feet firmly planted on the floor. Her dog-tags were in danger of sliding off of her neck and landing on the floor. Levi had given her the dog-tags that had belonged to their father. He had forgotten to give them to her on her first case.<p>

"I don't know whether to be grossed out or turned on by that," a male voice said. She smirked, looking up at the owner of the voice. Flack was grinning down at her. Bruises were still dotted along her ribcage. To add to the awkwardness of the situation, her iPod slid out from her sports-bra, clattering onto the mat.

Isabella stood up, her earbuds falling from her ears. She scooped up the wayward device and looked around for her duffel bag to stick it in.

"What kinda music is that?" Flack asked, nodding to it. A shy smile flickered on her lips before she answered.

"Aerosmith, currently," she replied, flicking off her iPod.

"You don't look like an Aerosmith fan," he commented. Isabella fought a snort, looking up at him.

"Well, I happen to enjoy Aerosmith. I bet I also don't come across as an AC/DC fan or an Ozzy Osbourne fan," she stated. A smirk crossed his handsome features as he looked at her.

"Alright then, I'll name off some lyrics and you tell me the band name and the song," he suggested. Her smile broadened to a grin.

"Shoot," she told him. He was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking.

"Hotel, motel make you wanna cry. Lady, do the hard sell, know the reason why," he quoted. A shrill laugh escaped Isabella. She knew the song well.

"Too easy, Flack. Long Way To The Top If You Wanna Rock N' Roll by AC/DC," she recited. He nodded.

"Alright, let's see if you get this one. I've listened to preachers, I've listened to fools. I've listened to dropouts who've made their own rules," he said.

"One person conditioned to rule and control. The media sells it and you live the role. Crazy Train, Ozzy Osbourne," she replied, quoting the rest of the verse.

"Wrong, that was Black Sabbath," he said. Isabella let out another laugh.

"You dork, Crazy Train was Ozzy's after he split from Black Sabbath," she informed him. His face went blank for a moment.

"Alright, you can walk the walk," he finally said. She laughed again, nudging his shoulder.

"Were you coming to work out or baby-sit?" she asked. He smirked, shaking his head.

"Well, I was actually going to see if you wanted to spar. After hearing you kicked your brother's ass, it sort of appealed to me to give it a shot. Consider it a part of your physical therapy," he said. She tossed her iPod into her duffel bag, zipping it up securely.

"Alright by me. Just hope no one else walks in to see me opening up a can of whoop-ass on you, it'd be pretty embarrassing," she returned with a smile.

"There's such a thing called 'arrogance', shorty. I think you caught it," he said. She set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You ready?" she asked. There was nothing wrong with a little roughness between two co-workers. It gave her a chance to work out some of her frustrations of sharing an apartment with two men. And a male dog. Said dog that had ripped up some of her clothing and chewed her favorite pair of boots.

"When you are," he answered. He stood a full foot taller than she, weighed quite a bit more than she, and fought a lot more people than she had. Don Flack looked like he may have had the advantage. She stood two feet from him and hooked her foot in the back of his knee, pulling forward. He grabbed her arm and twisted her out of the way, kicking her ankles out from under her. Isabella landed in a huff and kicked the back of his knees, causing him to stumble forward as well. She got to her feet and twisted his arm behind his back, pulling him backwards.

He grabbed the joint of her knee, her Achilles' heel, and she locked harder onto his arm, trying not to buckle. Flack had muscle and strength to his advantage. Isabella merely had speed and pressure on hers. She let him buckle her down onto the floor, before performing a sweep-kick and knocking him down. Quick as a flash, she pinned his wrists down to the mat.

"Say uncle," she said, her body hovering over his. He smirked and gripped her wrists, flipping her onto her back.

"Guess I'd better tell you that I wrestled from middle school into high school," he informed her. He was on top of her in a push-up position, the muscles in his biceps bulging.

"Guess I'd better tell _you_ that I just saw a flaw in your little charade," she countered. Her leg snaked up beside his ribcage and she shoved him off of her. He let out a yelp as she sat down on his back, keeping his wrists pinned behind him.

"Alright, now I know not to underestimate you because of your size. You win this round, shorty," he said. She kept his wrists firmly together as she slapped him over the head.

"How many times are you going to smack me over the head?" he asked. She smirked and helped him up.

"How many times are you going to call me 'shorty'?" she countered. He grabbed her around the waist and pinned her down onto the mat, his legs pinning down hers.

* * *

><p>Don grinned as Isabella tried to feebly wriggle out of his grip. She was fast, that was for sure. The one thing she had over him was experience and speed. He was taller and heavier, so he was much slower than she. Isabella was petite and lithe, she had speed on her side. She had known where to apply pressure to get him to respond. Definitely not one to be messed with. Her blue-flame eyes danced under him, daring him to try to get her to tap out. Could he lift her up? Easily.<p>

"Tap out," he instructed. She snorted, shaking her head to move her hair out of her face.

"Never," she disagreed, trying to wiggle her way out of his vice-like grip. He had learned from his previous mistakes to not let one of her legs get free. There were too many dangerous places that a woman like her could kick. His ribs, his stomach, his sternum, his groin...the list was endless.

Her hands went to his wrists, copying his other move. He flexed his muscle, trying to get her to still. Her nails dug into his skin and she kicked his inner thigh, flipping him over. Don Flack would never, ever admit it aloud, but the sight of any woman on top of him was erotic. Especially one in only a sports-bra and form-fitting shorts.

"Nice job, Detective," he said, still a little dazed. Her dog-tags hung in his face as she hovered over him. Locks of hair that had escaped her ponytail tickled his face. It was a good thing she was sitting on his stomach.

"Admit it, I just beat you," she crowed. He snickered, trying to keep a straight face. The sound of the door opening caused them both to jump.

"Whoa, sorry, am I interrupting something?" Officer Stevens asked. Isabella shook her head and helped Don to his feet.

"Just a sparring session. Flack doesn't know when to give up," she replied lightly. Don snorted.

"Please, shorty, I could still win this thing," he returned. Stevens muttered something as she left the sparring room.

"Wanna call it a draw, or finish what we started?" Don asked her. Her smile was contagious as she looked up at him.

"Well, we've gotten grappling down. I think we can call _that_ a draw," she replied.

"We basically wrestled. I know how to throw my weight around," he said. She giggled.

"Yeah, but you put too much weight into it. It looked like you were trying to lay down, not pin me," she told him.

"Well, you're a slippery little thing. I had to put a bit of muscle into it to keep you there," he defended.

"No one's ever called me slippery before," she commented, taking a swig from a water bottle. He could see the bruises fading from this light.

"Wanna take a break, or continue?" he asked.

"Slave driver," she teased.

* * *

><p>"Your ribs look a lot better," Flack commented as Isabella pulled her tank top on over her sports-bra. She turned and looked at him, smoothing out the blue shirt over her stomach.<p>

"They feel a lot better. Who would have thought vigorous exercise was the answer to anything?" she said. He chuckled and walked with her out of the sparring room. Every eye in them as they walked through.

"Why are they staring?" Isabella whispered. Flack shrugged as they separated into different locker rooms.


	8. Who's That Guy?

**_A/N: Ooh, why are people staring?_**

* * *

><p><em>Who's that guy?<em>

_Where did he come from?_

_Who's that guy?_

_Please tell me someone_

_I never knew anyone could be so cool  
><em>

Grease 2 — Who's That Guy?

* * *

><p>Isabella walked onto a crime scene, feeling a lot better.<p>

"Hey, you," Aiden greeted her. Isabella smiled.

"Hey," she returned the greeting. She set her kit onto the ground, feeling like every eye was on her. It was an uncomfortable feeling. "Why are people staring at me?"

"Probably has something to do with the fact you're all of a sudden back. Don't worry about it," Aiden assured her. Isabella nodded and walked to get her flashlight out of her brother's truck. Walking back, she heard someone hiss 'whore!'

She stopped in her tracks. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a policewoman standing smugly with her arms crossed.

"Excuse me?" Isabella said, craning her neck to read the badge. Officer Giles looked very pleased with herself.

"Never mind," she replied, walking off. Isabella gritted her teeth before stalking back to Aiden, who was trying to explain 'Grand Master' to Mac.

"If someone else says something, I'll confront it then," she concluded. She stood next to Aiden, Flack, and Mac.

"Typical club death. Two hundred people inside and no one saw a thing," Flack was saying. More chortles and heckles from uniforms around them. Isabella raised her eyebrow.

"Geez, I've been gone a week and it's apparently hilarious," she muttered.

"Yeah, like a DJ legend: Grand Master Flash or a Jam Master Jay. They paved the way for guys like Dre' and Cube, Eminem and Jermaine Dupri. You like music like that?" Aiden was saying. Mac chuckled.

"I prefer Crunk myself," he replied. Isabella felt a grin starting to form on her face. Aiden held out her hand for a high-five.

"What about you, shorty?" she asked.

"Nelly and Akon for me," she replied.

"You just got a hell of a lot cooler."

* * *

><p>Isabella laughed with Aiden at the lab.<p>

"Seriously, what was it like sharing an apartment with Flack and Levi?" Aiden asked. Isabella giggled.

"Well, it made me more aware of how I dressed. I realized I dress a little bit like a tramp," she replied.

"Wow. I'm surprised Levi didn't blindfold Flack every time you came around," Aiden commented. Isabella rolled her eyes skywards.

"I honestly think that crossed his mind. He's so overprotective," she replied, her eyes immediately catching onto an attractive man walking by the Trace Analysis lab.

"Yum. Who the hell is _that_?" she asked. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with medium-brown hair. Aiden looked over at the guy, her eyes roving appreciatively over him.

"Dunno, but I'd like to," she replied. The sound of someone clearing their throat caused them to turn.

"That's Sam Thomas, he's the new Homicide transfer from LAPD," Danny explained. Isabella smirked.

"Why's he in the lab?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Danny. He shrugged.

"Dunno. Why don't you go ask him to prom, Izzy?" he sniped dryly. Her smirk widened to a grin.

"I'll just see what I can do to go help him out," she said before walking out of the lab room. She approached Sam Thomas warily.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" she asked, peering over at him from her glasses. Isabella had been told by her doctor that wearing her contacts could irritate her eye for a while.

"Yes, do you work here?" Sam asked. She nodded.

"I do, actually. My name's Isabella," she answered. He extended a hand and she shook it firmly.

"I'm Sam. Sam Thomas, I'm the new Homicide transfer from LA," he explained. A smile curved across her pretty features as she studied him.

"Nice to meet you. I'm one of the CSIs here," she replied. She could see from where she stood that he had very pretty emerald green eyes.

"Oh, you must be Isabella Pacino. Yeah, I was told to look for you, actually," he said. She nodded.

"Is there anything in particular I could help you with?" she asked. He smirked.

"Well, actually, I was told that you were the go-to gal of the lab," he replied. She blinked in confusion.

"This is only my fourth case. Who told you I was the go-to gal?" she asked. Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Uh, three guys. Two dark-haired guys, one really tall, the other slightly shorter. The other guy had blonde hair and wore glasses," he responded. Isabella set her jaw.

"Levi Pacino, Don Flack, and Danny Messer," she growled. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she was hazed.

"Yeah, I think those were their names," he said. Isabella crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry that they sent you to me. I'm just a rookie, I probably won't be much help," she informed him. Before she could further humiliate herself, she turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait! Wanna get 'em back?" he asked. She chuckled wryly, shaking her head.

"Get them back how? I feel so stupid!" she said. Sam smirked.

"How good are you at pranks?" he asked.

* * *

><p>Isabella held up her screwdriver, after successfully jerry-rigging Flack's desk drawer to only open three inches. Danny's keys had been tossed into the precinct pool, Levi's keys were locked in his car with the contacts in his phone changed. To further mess with the three, Isabella had also stashed both of Flack's phones in the ceiling tile above his desk. Danny's locker combination had been changed.<p>

"You are an evil mastermind. Here I was, just thinking that we could put laxatives in their coffee and stool softeners," Sam commented. Isabella grinned up at him.

"Ooh, I don't mess around, Sam. Rule number one if you're a part of the NYPD: You have to know how to prank," she informed him. She slid the screwdriver into the belt loop of her jeans, sticking the tip into her pocket.

"Alright, let's wait till they come back, and we'll commence the first steps of our master plan," he said with a crooked smile. He had an adorable smile. Isabella could easily feel herself becoming attracted to him. They had similar senses of humor, similar taste in movies and TV. Steve Carrell and Will Ferrell cracked them up.

"Well, they should be back any minute. Let's find a safe place to do our paperwork, see if they catch on," she suggested. His smile widened.

"I have to admit, I like the way you think," he stated. She led him towards their desks. Conveniently, they were across the aisle from each other. Isabella sat down and crossed her legs, smoothing out her jeans. The sound of the precinct door opening made her smile as she tapped away on her keyboard. Her eyes remained glued to the screen as Flack and Levi walked by them, chatting about something.

"I'm telling you, Rangers are gonna kick the 'Canes' asses, Levi," Flack was saying. He tried to open his desk drawer and Isabella sneaked a glance over her shoulder at him. Stealthily, she pulled open her own desk drawer to slide in her screwdriver.

"What the hell? I can't open my desk drawer," he said, tugging on it. Isabella fought her giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. She glanced over at Sam, nodding for him to call Flack's phone. The sound of chiming came from the ceiling.

"Where the hell is my phone?" Flack asked, looking around. He patted his pockets, groping around for his phone. He looked over at Isabella.

"Did you see anyone near my desk?" he asked her. She shook her head coolly.

"I just got here," she informed him. Levi held up his phone, squinting at it.

"What the hell? My contact names are changed!" he commented. Isabella fought a snort, trying desperately to keep from laughing.

"Hey, shorty, can you fix my desk drawer?" Flack asked her. She rolled her eyes and stood up, walking over to his desk. She leaned against the desk, pounding her fist on it. Immediately, Flack was able to pull it open.

"It's a miracle how violence is occasionally the answer," she remarked before tossing her hair and walking back to her desk. The door separating the bullpen from the precinct pool opened and a sopping wet Danny was revealed.

"Who threw my keys in the pool?" he asked. Not being able to contain it any longer, Isabella and Sam both dissolved into laughter.

"Oh, whoever got y'all got you good," she gasped out between giggles.

"Do you two know something we don't?" Levi asked. Isabella wiped her eye, her giggles alleviating a bit.

"You mean besides my college education? Figure it out for yourself," she replied. That would teach her brother to mess with her.


	9. Outmanned

**_A/N: I know there was another chapter in this place, but I'm trying this new thing called 'patience.' Weird, huh? Anyways...I GOT CSI:NY SEASON ONE ON DVD! 8DDDD I was so psyched!_**

**_ Wonderful words to my reviewers~_**

**_bjq: Ooh, I am so glad you caught that robbery thing ;D I was waiting for someone to catch on! Good eye! And thanks, I think 'Flacino' is pretty awesome myself xD_**

**_bel canto bueno: I think Sam's pretty hot, too. I picture him as James Denton, look him up on Google. He's hot! I think Flack deserves some competition ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>Uptown's got its hustlers<em>

_The bowery's got its bums_

_And 42nd Street's got Big Jim Walker  
><em>

Jim Croce — You Don't Mess Around With Jim

* * *

><p>What was wrong with her? Sam Thomas was a very attractive man, inside and out. He was also attracted to her. So what was the problem? Isabella groaned, leaning back against the wall of her new apartment. She had just moved in the night before and boxes littered the cavernous living room. Tiger oak chair rails and crown molding laced up and down the eggshell-white walls, giving the space a sophisticated feel. Thanks to her brother and his roommate, she only had cold pizza, beer, and soda in her finally-clean refrigerator. The previous tenant had disgraced the apartment, especially the refrigerator. The floors had been scuffed and filmy, the walls had been stained and discolored, and the refrigerator had been a moldy, stained disgrace. After eight hours on a well-deserved day off, Isabella had scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom to her satisfaction. It had been hard to believe that the place hadn't been cleaned prior to her arrival.<p>

Unfortunately, it had given her time to think. Why did it feel so wrong when Sam touched her? She wanted to feel _something_, but the emotions weren't there. Every time he had brushed his hands over her skin, her mind seemed to be telling her that it was wrong. She shook her head and turned to the mass of boxes that littered her spacious living room. It had a luckily open layout, which was convenient. Isabella pulled out her box-cutter, slicing it into the cardboard and pulled it open. Only her clothes, furniture, and pictures were unpacked. Everything else remained packed. She took a deep breath, surveying her apartment. It was going to be a long night, she knew.

The sound of her phone ringing an hour later broke her concentration. Isabella set down her high school graduation photo onto the built-in shelf in the living room wall and stood up. She dusted her hands onto her jeans and picked up her work cell.

"Hey, Aiden," she greeted.

_"Hey, shorty. Listen, I know you're on secondary call today, but I really need your help off Lex tonight. We got a homicide and I don't think I can do it by myself," Aiden's Brooklyn accent replied over the line. _

"Sure thing. I'll be there in about thirty minutes," Isabella replied, snapping her phone shut. She smirked and slid it into her pocket. Time to get dressed and report to the crime scene.

* * *

><p>Isabella shook out her dark hair, carrying her kit in her hand. It had been hell to get to the scene, and she had finally shown up to the scene fifteen minutes late.<p>

"Yo, your cavalry has arrived," she said, setting her kit down. The body of a burned boy laying face-down greeted her. Aiden held up his wallet in her gloved hand.

"Lenny Starks, he's nineteen years old," she commented. Her warm brown eyes settled on the petite CSI. "Glad you could make it."

Isabella let out a dry laugh, slipping on her gloves. "You of all people know about that infamous New York traffic," she reminded her. Her eyes settled on a man standing near Aiden.

"Can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head. After working with the NYPD for a while, she thought she had met the entire homicide department. He smirked and held out a hand.

"Detective Charlie Thacker," he introduced himself. Isabella shook his hand, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm Detective Isabella Pacino," she said, her eyes trailing to the body again. She leaned forward to get a better look, her blue eyes meeting Aiden's.

"This kid got burned pretty bad," she commented. Aiden nodded in agreement and glanced over her shoulder. Isabella's eyes followed suit, narrowing in irritation at Detective Thacker's lascivious staring.

"Do me a favor. Don't check out my ass and Pacino's rack while a kid's dead in the street. Show some respect," she snapped in irritation. Isabella tightened her jacket, feeling her face warm. Once again, she had miscalculated her top when she bent over, giving her cleavage a clear view to anyone.

"Some might view it as sexual harassment," Isabella added, trying to keep the bite out of her tone. Levi and Sam were on the Officer Valasquez murder. If Levi had seen Thacker checking her out, he would have jumped at the older man's throat.

The other man simply smirked.

* * *

><p>"This pizza joint has a shady rep," Aiden commented as they walked in. Isabella looked around the pizzeria with unease weighing heavily in her stomach. The sharp stench of tobacco caused her to wrinkle her nose, the smoke causing her eyes to water. It was an average pizza parlor all in all, with the neon 'Open' sign in the window above the door, a TV on a pedestal in the upper corner with sports playing. As the two detectives walked by with kits in hand, Isabella noticed the men putting away sticky notes. Slowly, each man glared at her with open distaste. Her eyes settled on a young girl sliding a pizza into an oven.<p>

"Geez, in North Carolina, it's illegal to smoke in public places," Isabella muttered to herself, fighting the urge to wave her hand away from her face in an attempt to clear the cigar and cigarette smoke from her senses.

"Alright, shorty, we got our work cut out for us," Aiden said, setting down her kit. Isabella followed suit, nodding to her partner on the case.

"Lead the way to the Grail, Lady Burn," she joked lightly.

"We're gonna need you to shut the ovens off," Aiden said. Isabella's eyes met the bewildered brown eyes of the skittish pizza girl and lowered to her hand, swathed in gauze and tape.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked gently. Aiden had opened the oven, her attention fully on the appliance.

"I-I burned it on the oven. It's a pretty risky job," the pizza girl replied. Isabella simply nodded, opening her kit.

"Mind if I see it?" she asked. The girl hesitated before unwrapping the gauze, wincing as two burned fingers came into views. "Those are some pretty nasty second-degree burns."

"I burned them three or four days ago. I work around ovens, you know," the girl retorted. Isabella gave a faint smile before pulling out her camera.

"I'm a scientist, not a moron. These were done within the last twenty-four hours," she said. She poised her camera up to take photos of the burns, but her eyes met that of a bleach-blonde man with a dark mustache.

"Officer Burn," he greeted Aiden. Immediately, Isabella felt her hackles rise in defense. There was something about this man that she didn't like and she couldn't put her finger on it.

"It's Detective Burn to you, Nicky," Aiden said coldly. Her head turned to nod at Isabella. "This is Detective Pacino." Nicky's eyebrows rose in clear alarm as he surveyed the petite dark-haired CSI. Isabella tried to stick her chin out in defiance.

"Why don't you ladies run along down the street?" he suggested, stepping closer to Aiden. Isabella set her camera down, ready to step to Aiden's aid if needed. She stared down the taller man, daring him to make a move. Her hand twitched instinctively towards her service weapon.

"Why don't you step up out of our personal space?" Aiden countered, her hand moving towards her Glock. Nicky glared at Aiden before glancing coolly over his shoulder at the men behind him. Shit, Isabella hadn't noticed them. They were out-manned.

"Take my suggestion, detectives," he said, moving open his jacket to reveal his revolver. Isabella felt the burning embarrassment in her belly, but tried not to show it as she stepped backwards.

"C'mon, shorty. Let's go," Aiden seethed, her voice flat with disgust. Isabella had no choice but to follow.


	10. All Grown Up

_**A/N: Now, let's see who can get why I'm keeping Sam in the equation ;D**_

* * *

><p><em>Keep goin', girl, it's your night<em>

_Don't let him steal your light_

_I know he thinks you're fun and stuff_

_But does he know how to wind you up?  
><em>

Gwen Stefani — Wind It Up

* * *

><p>Isabella clenched her jaw, trying to keep her temper to herself as she strode back to the lab with Aiden.<p>

"That was pretty unnerving," Aiden said with a sigh. Isabella nodded curtly.

"I just hate smug bastards like that," she growled. She clenched her free hand into a tight fist, keeping her eyes ahead of her.

"We're gonna have a field day with him, that's for sure, but don't lose your temper like that," Aiden said. Isabella slid her kit into the floorboards of the Avalanche, trying to hold her tongue.

"Hey, he's the one who got all defensive when he heard my name," she pointed out. People tended to take the name 'Pacino' to heart. Her grandfather had been a notorious Mafia leader in his earlier years. He was currently retired, passing on the 'prestigious legacy' of the Pacino crime family to her Zio Antonio.

"You related to Old Man Pacino?" Aiden asked as they got into the truck. Isabella nodded, buckling her seat-belt.

"Yep. Old Man Pacino is Armando the First. My daddy's the second, Levi's the third," she answered. She was starting to relax now, her anger ebbing.

"We're gonna get that son of a bitch, shorty. Don't worry about it," Aiden attempted to assure her. Isabella rested her head on her hand, playing with her hair with her free hand.

"He's up to his ears in crime and we only got our gut instinct," she growled. "Hard to not worry."

"You got faith in the NYPD?" Aiden asked. Isabella submitted a snort, not being able to help herself. "Answer the question. You're second generation cop, you know we can't just jump on instinct."

"I know that, and I have ways of getting information. You can't be a Pacino without connections," she said.

"As long as it's legal and away from the mark, do what you need to do," Aiden told her.

* * *

><p>Isabella walked towards the warehouse in the Pelham Bay district, feeling dirty and sleazy. It wasn't illegal to see her family, but she was seeing them unofficially as a civilian. She had no way of getting backup if her cousins decided they weren't happy to see her.<p>

She stopped dead when she felt a blunt object against her spine.

"Who the hell are you?" a woman's Brooklyn accent demanded. Isabella felt a slow smile curve on her features as she recognized her cousin's voice. "Crazy Bitch" Carmen Sanchez.

"Carmen," Isabella greeted her cousin, her hands up. Although this wasn't smart, she had to admit, she was happy to see her family. They were her ears to the ground. The Pacino family or "Shadow's Blade" didn't approve of her career move, they supported her and her brother.

"Isabella Rae." Carmen moved the object from Isabella's spine and turned her cousin to look at her face to face. Her mink-brown hair hung in her face, framing her pretty features. Chocolate brown eyes met blue-flame. They called Carmen "Crazy Bitch" because once the woman had been released, blood would be spilled. She stood at a mere five feet tall, but she moved faster than Isabella could ever hope.

"I need some information, if you're willing to give me some," Isabella requested, surveying the younger woman. The two had gotten along famously growing up. They had been more like the sisters the other had never had.

"Depends. I ain't rattin' out Demon if that's what you're thinkin'," Carmen responded, planting her hands on her narrow hips. She had a slender, model-like body and bee-stung lips that had gotten men to whistle at her since she was twelve years old.

"You know anything about the booking front at Little Nicky's?" Isabella asked. Carmen looked over her shoulder, shushing the older woman.

"You could get us shot for askin' shit like that, Izzy Rae. C'mon, let's go inside where it's a little more comfortable," she suggested. She slipped her arm through Isabella's and tugged her into the warehouse. Two lanky men were sprawled out on a sofa, attention on the TV. Another man was perched on a stool, a remote control in his hand.

"Geez, get off your lazy asses, boys! I could've gotten shot with a silencer and you wouldn't be able to hear it over that brain-drainer!" Carmen exclaimed. She kicked the stool out from under one of the men.

"You can handle yourself, CB. We ain't worried none," one of the sofa men replied. Isabella smirked as she recognized Dante, Deangelo, and Elias.

"Then, how's about greetin' your favorite cousin?"

That got their attention. "I got a couple of questions for you, boys. Any of y'all know about the booking front at Little Nicky's?" she asked.

The three men exchanged glances before Dante spoke up.

"Little Nicky is a dangerous man, little miss. What's he involved in now?"

"Someone at his pizzeria is guilty of murder. If any of you know anything, now's the time to tell me," she replied. The trio shook their heads.

"All we know is that he's notorious for loan-sharking. Last guy who didn't pay up is currently an amputee," Elias replied. Isabella nodded.

"Thank you, boys. I'll be in touch," she informed them before walking towards the exit. She knew she could depend on her family. If the Irish government was at her throat, the Italian mob had her back.

* * *

><p>Isabella and Aiden walked into the pizzeria for what Isabella hoped was the last time. Nicky loomed over the pair.<p>

"I thought I told you two to take a walk," he sneered. Isabella smirked before holding up a warrant. Aiden strode over to the girl.

"Put your two fingers up to the photo, please," she requested. Isabella gave a confident smile to the sleazy looking men as they tucked cards under napkins and coasters. They tried to intimidate her with a glare, but she simply jutted her chin out in defiance. They could get the best of her once, but not twice.

"I thought I told you two to take a walk," Nicky repeated, standing over Isabella. She pulled her gun out from its holster before glancing coolly at her cavalry. Thacker and uniformed officers.

"Do you have a repeating complex? 'Cause I'm sure there's medication for that," she fired back. "Or are you just so sure of yourself that you have to repeat everything twice to get your point across?"

Nicky had no answer for that.

"That's what I thought; shut up," she snapped. She snapped her fingers and pointed to a booth. "Sit down and take a load off, we'll be here a while."

"There's no way she could have slammed the oven door into his head, the burn patterns are inconsistent," Aiden said. Isabella felt a confident smirk cross her lips.

"Then, we'll just have to take a little walk downtown, won't we?" She turned to face Nicky. "The group of us are gonna take a little walk."

* * *

><p>Isabella stood outside of the interrogation room, examining the suspect on the other side of the door by pulling down one of the slats of the blinds.<p>

"Wanna give it a shot, shorty?" Aiden asked. Isabella twisted her mouth in thought, furrowing her brow in concern.

"Am I ready?" she asked.

"Have you ever done an interrogation by yourself?" Isabella nodded. "Then give it a shot. I'll be on the other side of the glass."

"Thanks," Isabella said gently. Aiden opened the door to the observation room while Isabella opened the door to interrogation, stepping inside.

"My lawyer's gonna have a field day with you, Detective _Pacino_," Nicky sneered at her. The small interrogation room felt even smaller as she surveyed Nicky Vicenzo.

"Then I hope your public defender's brushed up on New York laws. It's illegal to bet sports in the Empire State," she replied, a little surprised at how smooth and cool her tone sounded. Aiden was right, she was ready for this.

With this new boost of confidence, she pulled out the folder with the crime scene photos. She splayed them out onto the table, watching him intently.

"You see, we have evidence that supports the theory that you slammed his head in with an oven door repeatedly," she informed him, tapping the photos.

"I didn't do that," he blustered, shoving the photos away. Isabella gave him a molasses-sweet smile, something she usually reserved for situations like this.

"Then, you must've been the one to stab him. That's how he died. Cause of death was exsanguination due to sharp force trauma to the sternum and the blade pierced the left ventricle of the heart," she lied smoothly. Nicky's eyes widened as he searched her face. Isabella merely stood stone-faced as he tried to find a crack in her lie.

"Okay, I'll admit to burning the kid's face, but I didn't stab him," he finally said. Yes, her lie had paid off! Isabella fought a smile of triumph as she sat down in the chair across from him, crossing her legs.

"You know what my very part of being an investigator is, Mr. Vicenzo?" she asked him, looking up at him from her eyelashes.

"What," he said. Finally, the triumphant smile broke out on her face as she flipped the folder shut.

"Legally, I can lie to you. I just got you to confess to killing Lenny Starks because he died from burn trauma to the cranium. There was no stabbing," she informed him. Her smile broadened as she continued.

"And the sternum and the left ventricle are nowhere near each other. While you're in prison, you should brush up on your anatomy."

Nicky's eyes narrowed into a baleful glare as he stood up. "You tricked me."

Isabella gave him a wink. "And it was legal. You have fun in prison now, you hear?" she said, standing up. She looked over her shoulder and gave a whistle to one of the officers.

* * *

><p>"Hey, shorty, we're all going out to Sullivan's for drinks later. Wanna come?" Aiden asked. Isabella nodded in agreement.<p>

"Sure, I'll meet y'all there," she replied. She walked down the hall, still buzzed on her excitement. She had followed her gut and told a brilliant lie.

"Isabella!" someone called behind her. Isabella turned around to see who was calling her. It was Sam. Why was it that when she saw him, she felt her heart flutter, and when he was gone, she wondered why she was with him?

"Hey," she greeted him. He kissed her forehead, drawing her in for a hug.

"Heard you kicked ass at interrogation today," he said. She felt a smile start to form on her face as he tipped her chin up. "Ah, there's the smile made of sunlight."

"I gotta go, but I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

Sam looked visibly deflated as he let out an 'oh.'

Isabella twisted her mouth in thought. Should she invite him along? She knew she should, but she also knew she was leading him on. That wasn't fair.


	11. Birthday Girl

**_A/N: I now have quite a bit of time to update! I'm so happy 8D_**

**_bel canto bueno: I think I can make up for it in this chapter, if you so desire ;D I'm happy that you like this story, because I love to write it!  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Because these things will change<em>

_Can you feel it now?_

_These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down_

_This revolution, the time will come for us to finally win_

_And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah  
><em>

Taylor Swift — Change

* * *

><p>The sound of frantic door-knocking caused Isabella to jolt awake. She let out a groan as she stretched and rolled over to look at her alarm clock. '6:00' glowed red at her in the dim dawn light. She sat up and walked out of her bedroom, the feel of the cool hardwood floors beneath her bare feet waking her up little by little. Isabella opened the door, leaning against the frame.<p>

"Yeah?" she said, trying to focus on the figure on the other side of the door. A tall man held a fruit basket in his arms.

"Are you Isabella Pacino?" he asked. She nodded, rubbing her eyes furiously to wake up. The nametag on his uniform read 'Jimmy.' He was from Edible Arrangements.

"Happy birthday, ma'am." He handed her the basket and pulled out a clipboard. She scrawled her name at the bottom of the page as she frowned. Was it her birthday? Only she would forget something like that. Isabella closed her door and looked up as her phone rang from its perch on the kitchen counter. Nearly tripping over a box on her way over there, she finally made it over to the kitchen counter, setting the fruit bouquet near the flowers. She flipped her phone open to answer it.

"Pacino," she mumbled. A cheery voice greeted her.

_"Hey, birthday girl! How does it feel to be a quarter of a century old?" Aria De Luca asked._ The two women had grown up together, having known each other since first grade. They had also gone through the police academy together and had worked SAU together.

"You would know. It's frickin' six am, are you high?" Isabella groaned. Aria laughed over the line, seemingly cheery.

_"Nope, I'm working the graveyard shift today, I get off at eight. Thought I'd give you a call and see how you're doing," she replied._

"And tell me happy birthday? Would you believe me if I told you that I forgot?" Isabella asked, feeling herself slowly wake up. Now, she was able to focus on what was in front of her.

_"You work like your daddy, honeybee, I'm honestly not surprised that you forgot your own birthday," Aria chided._

"Well, this means I need to call Ian. Thanks for the birthday wish," Isabella said, rubbing her eyes again. There was a clicking of a key into a lock on her door and she turned her head to see who was stepping into her apartment. That was the hard part of living in this current apartment: the kitchen was away from the front door and she couldn't hear if someone tried to walk in unless she was very quiet.

_"I'll call you when you're in a better mood, Killer. G'bye," Aria said. _Isabella snapped her phone shut, sticking it onto the counter and walked to see who was coming inside. Levi stood in the doorway with bags in his arms. She remembered now that she had given Levi a key to her apartment to bring stuff over and in case of an emergency.

"Happy birthday," he greeted her. Isabella smiled as he set down the bags onto her counter.

"Who gave me the fruit?" she asked, nodding to the arrangement. Levi smirked as he pulled items out of the grocery bags. He had bought her eggs, produce, meat, cereal, milk, bread, and other things.

"Dad. He called them as soon as he woke up this morning," he answered. Her smile widened as she thought of her father. Armando Pacino the Second worked at the Department of Homeland Security as the head of the Intelligence and Analysis department in New Jersey.

"You got me food, thank you," she said, wrapping one arm around her brother's waist to hug him. He kissed the top of her head.

"You're welcome. Did you call Ian?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Jimmy the delivery boy woke me up at six," she replied, looking at the digital clock on her stove. It was 6:15 now.

"You forgot your own birthday, didn't you?" he accused her. Too tired to argue, Isabella simply giggled with delirium. "That's a sign that you need a day off."

"Well, let me get ready and I'll be nice," she said. She nodded to the couch. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

* * *

><p>Don sat down at the kitchen table, staring at his cellphone. He was internally wrestling with calling Isabella on her birthday. Why shouldn't he? Colleagues called each other all the time for less. The major issue was Sam Thomas. The fondness the pair shared was painfully obvious to everyone around them, much to Don's distress. He knew it wasn't a good idea to pursue Isabella, her brother was his partner.<p>

The door to the apartment opened, breaking Don's concentration.

"Hey, man, I wanted to talk to you," Levi said. Don gestured for his friend to sit down. Levi sat down in the chair across from him, his eyes concerned.

"I'm thinking about transferring to another department," he said.

"What department?" Don asked, not being able to contain his surprise. Levi cleared his throat, looking away.

"Either Vice or Narcotics, I'm not sure. It's going to sound crazy, but I can't work so closely to my sister anymore. I keep thinking something's going to happen to her and I'm gonna keep being protective big brother and she deserves better than that. She's a damn good cop and me working with her isn't going to help her grow," he replied. That made sense.

"You think she'll be okay with knowing she's the reason your career's transferring?" Don pointed out. Levi shook his head.

"I love my little sister, but she's bullheaded. When I heard that she got threatened by Nicky Vicenzo, I nearly tracked the guy down and bashed his face in for talking to her like that. She can handle herself, it's time for me to back off and let her take care of herself," he said.

"Well, it'll suck to lose you as a partner, but I see your point," Don answered. Levi chuckled.

"You only needed me to show you the ropes, Flack. Now's the time for you to use 'em." His brown eyes darkened a shade.

"And I'm leaving when Sam Thomas transfers out of the 12th. I don't trust him near my sister," he confided.

"I think it's just puppy love, Levi. Don't worry about it," Don wrote it off. Levi shook his head, clearly not ready to let this go.

"He's a very intense man and I think he's reading too far into Isabella's motives. I don't think she likes him the way he likes her and he's not willing to give it up," he said.

"Isabella's now twenty-five years old, Levi. She doesn't need her big brother to stuff her into a sack and carry her off," Don pointed out.

"I just can't help but think that if I leave now, he's going to pounce and it won't be the last we see of our bearded friend," Levi said.

"Yeah, but Isabella's got backup. The team's warmed up to her now and if anything, Aiden will have her back," Don assured him. His friend looked wistful.

"When I do transfer, look after her. This is gonna sound weird, but I trust you with her," he stated.

* * *

><p>Isabella curled up on her couch, waiting for Aiden and Stella to stop by. Mac had kept her away from work today with it being her birthday. She had a bottle of water in her hand as she bit off the end of a chocolate-dipped strawberry. The sweet and tart mixture of the decadent treat melted in her mouth, the flavors singing on her tongue. Isabella had to admit, she liked not doing anything. So far, her brother had taken her out for a birthday breakfast at Waffle House and helped her unpack her apartment. There was a surprise for her tonight, he had braced her for that. It was always a pleasure to wear something other than work clothes. She currently wore a pair of dark-wash straight-leg jeans, an over-sized brown sweater with a pink cherry blossom on it with bare feet. She stood up upon hearing a knock on her door and walked to the other side of the apartment.<p>

She flung open the door, a smile breaking out on her face as the silhouettes of Stella and Aiden came into view.

"Hey! C'mon in!" she encouraged, waving her hand to gesture them inside. The two women stepped inside, holding bags in their hands.

"Happy birthday, shorty," Aiden said, holding out her arms. Isabella hugged the other woman tightly.

"Thanks!" she replied before hugging Stella.

"So, what have you done so far?" Stella asked. Isabella let out a laugh, pulling her fruit bouquet from her fridge.

"So far? I've gotten up at the crack of dawn, received fruit in the mail, ate at a greasy East Coast waffle franchise, unpacked boxes and stared at my family photos," she replied. "In that order."

"I like what you've done with the place," Stella commented, looking around. Isabella beamed at the compliment as she closed the door behind them.

"Thanks. It's taken lots of late nights and I am almost officially moved in. I haven't gotten around to grocery shopping, so I've been living off pizza and takeout. Primary diet for a New Yorker," she replied. They sat down on the couch and shared fruit before Stella finally spoke up.

"Well, I've got good news," she announced. Isabella looked over at her co-worker to elaborate.

"We've nearly uncovered a motive for your break-in at your old apartment."

* * *

><p>Don stood outside of Isabella's door, hesitating before knocking gently. Light laughter ensued from the other side of the door as it opened. Isabella stood in the doorway, her pretty blue eyes meeting his.<p>

"Hey, Flack," she greeted him. He stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I was, ah, on my way somewhere and I thought I'd wish you a happy birthday," he said finally. She gave him a gracious smile. He had always been taken aback by her smile. It was like the room lit up when she flashed it. It had a dimple-popping, nose-wrinkling, eye-crinkling, smile-with-your-whole-head kind of smile that never ceased to make his day.

"Thank you!" she replied. They shared a quick hug and he stepped backwards. "See you later?" she asked, tilting her head.

Don chuckled, nodding slightly. "Sure," he agreed.


	12. Attraction

_**A/N: This is part two of the birthday series! Review and let me know if you want a picture of the outfits in this chapter and I'll give you a picture in private message. I'm also working on the chapter after this, so...it should be ready by the end of the day for an update c:  
><strong>_

_**Words from my reviewers~**_

_**bel canto bueno: Don't we all want a Don? Lol, glad you enjoyed this chapter**_

* * *

><p><em>Hey boy, I really wanna see<em>

_If you can go downtown with a girl like me_

_Hey boy, I really wanna be with you_

_'Cause you're just my type, oh na na na na_

_I need a boy to take it over_

_Lookin' for a girl to put you over, oh oh oh oh  
><em>

Rihanna ft. Drake — What's My Name (If you listen to the song while you read this, you'll see how it fits)

* * *

><p>"Do you have anything to wear for dinner tonight?" Aiden asked, rifling through Isabella's closet. Isabella shrugged.<p>

"I never know where I go for dinner, so I don't know what to wear," she admitted. Aiden poked her head out to look at her.

"I know where you're going. If you trust me, let me pick out your clothes," she said. Stella had to run out on a call, leaving Aiden and Isabella together.

"Sure. Just keep in mind that my dad's gonna be there, so nothing too revealing," Isabella replied. Aiden disappeared back into the closet and the sound of moving hangers and the rustle of fabric as it brushed against each other filled the air.

"Not gonna lie here, shorty. Some of these dresses are awful," she said. Isabella let out a laugh, leaning back onto her heels.

"My mother bought most of those," she explained. Finally, Aiden stepped backwards, holding a hanger proudly in her hand. Draping from the hanger was a one-sleeved red dress. Isabella had bought the garment on sale on a simple whim, but had never worn it.

"You know, it's been scientifically proven that men find women in red sexier," she said and hung it from a doorknob. The dress had hit slightly longer than mid-thigh on Isabella.

"It's a New York winter, Aiden. I'm gonna be freezing my ass off," Isabella pointed out. Aiden scoffed.

"You got a long coat? We're all just staying in the restaurant, you know. And taking a car because it's too damn cold to walk," she replied. Isabella disappeared into her closet, tilting her head at her coats. She had a few coats, but only one long coat. A trench coat that had been given to her in Ireland. She pulled it out of the closet.

"This is what I have," she said. Aiden nodded approvingly.

"You're gonna look hot. I'm gonna go grab my dress, you go shower," she told her. Isabella walked out of her bedroom to find a spare key. Aiden had agreed to go to the dinner with her for moral support.

"Here's the key. When you get back, you can go ahead and use it to come inside. Just set it on the counter," she told her, pressing the key into her friend's palm.

"Alright, shorty, I'll be back in about thirty minutes," Aiden replied before stepping backwards and walking out of the apartment.

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in front of her mirror, unease and nervousness fluttering around her insides as she examined her reflection. Her long raven hair was pulled over her right shoulder with the sleeve of the dress, bobby pins keeping her hair on the side. Her delicate fingers pulled the zipper upwards, keeping the dress securely on. This was a bold move, she knew. She had learned from TV how to use neutrals to play up a color. Black was the frame, the red dress was the picture.<p>

"Hey, you ready?" Aiden's voice came out of nowhere, startling the petite Southerner. Isabella whirled around and nodded. Aiden's dress was a sapphire blue single-strapped dress with embellishment along the single strap. The hem of the dress hit just above her knee, giving the look class and elegance. The sides of her mink-brown hair was pulled back, locks of hair cascading down her face.

"Why are you trying to look better than me at my birthday dinner?" Isabella complained. Aiden's eyes rolled skywards as she shook her head.

"I wear stuff like this all the time. This is a whole other side of you that no one's hardly seen, so it's more of an attention-grabber," she explained, standing beside her. Isabella had finally stepped her feet into her stilettos, cinching the back like a belt. The black suede shoes looked sophisticated, giving the deep red dress an extra oomph. She had to admit, the dress was a perfect fit. It gave a stunning contrast to her flawless fair skin.

"Can't help but be nervous, though," she admitted. Aiden slung her arm around her friend's shoulder.

"Well, that's natural," she responded. The sound of the front door opening alerted the two detectives. Isabella's heels clicked on the hardwood floors as she turned the corner to see who it was. Her brother stood in a suit in the doorway, his hair neatly combed. When her eyes settled on the slightly shorter figure next to him, she let out a squeal as she crossed the room to throw her arms around him. Because standing next to Levi was her twin brother, Ian.

"You're getting too old and mature, I don't like it," Ian said, swinging her around. Isabella grinned, squeezing him in a tighter embrace.

"What about you, little brother?" she countered, stepping backwards to look him up and down. He stood an inch shorter than Levi at six foot three and had the same smooth tanned skin and dark brown eyes. Isabella was the only Pacino with blue eyes like her mother. She turned and gestured to Aiden.

"Ian, this is my friend Aiden Burn. She's one of the detectives I work with," she said, nodding to her friend. "Aiden, this is my twin brother, Ian Pacino."

The pair shook hands, eyes locking.

"Nice to meet you," Ian said, a half-smirk on his face. Aiden nodded.

"Likewise," she returned. Levi finally cleared his throat.

"Well, you ladies look great. Let's go ahead and go to the restaurant, Dad's waiting," he said, opening the apartment door. Isabella slid on her trench coat, tying the cinch securely around her waist.

* * *

><p>Isabella sat down at the restaurant booth, aptly named 'The Blue Dolphin.' It was a new place, supposedly very trendy. The sprawling franchise had a fun-lit atmosphere with a strict dress-code: Women wore dresses and men wore jackets and ties. The booth was seated near an aquarium with brightly-colored tropical fish swimming around. Isabella recognized an angel fish, a clown fish, a butterfly fish, and a few seahorses. The main attraction of the restaurant were the gigantic fish tanks. The tank in the center had dolphins in it.<p>

"Hi, I'm Holly and I'll be your waitress tonight!" a perky petite blonde said, holding a tray in her hands. On the tray was a pad and a pen. Holly couldn't have been more than an inch taller than Isabella, with smiling brown eyes. Levi looked up at the waitress.

"We have two birthdays today, is there anything you do for that?" he asked. Isabella slapped her brother with her menu.

"Hell, no! Last year, Joe's Crab Shack made us dance around the restaurant. I got crabs shoved down my dress!" she protested. Holly smiled.

"The birthday people get a complimentary cake of their choice and the kitchen staff sings happy birthday to you," she said, clearly ignoring Isabella's comment. The sound of whooping and yelling ensued from the entrance of the restaurant and Isabella slapped her forehead.

"Ian, please tell me that you didn't invite Emmett Bingham," she said, looking up at her twin brother with hopeful eyes.

"Wish I could, honeybee. It's my birthday, too," Ian replied with a grin. Isabella groaned visibly, resting her hand against her forehead. Emmett Bingham had grown up alongside the Pacino twins and constantly threw himself on Isabella. He was annoying, loud, and uncouth, but he was Ian's best friend.

"Woo-wee! Look at you, Izzy Rae, you look hot!" Emmett declared. He wore a sloppy white dress shirt, his tie loose around his neck. His blonde hair was spiked like the 90's, his green eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Hey, Emmett," Isabella greeted him half-heartedly. She squeezed her eyes shut as he dragged her from her seat and crushed her into a tight hug.

"Ian, this is Detective Aiden Burn, we work together at the crime lab," she said before mouthing "I'm sorry" to her friend. Aiden stood up and shook the man's hand.

"Izzy, I didn't know you swing that way, now," Emmett said, leering down at the two women. Isabella fought the urge to slap her forehead again.

"No, Emmett, she's a friend; we work together and she came to celebrate my birthday with me. Like how Ian invited you," she explained impatiently. She sat back down, sliding next to Aiden. Emmett kept sliding closer to Isabella and she kept scooting closer to Aiden in the packed booth.

"I'm not that hungry, I probably will take the rest to go," Isabella informed her father, once she could get in a word edge-wise. The sound of her phone ringing cut the tension at the table as she flipped open her work cell. 125-25. Homicide.

"Did you get the same message?" she asked Aiden and Levi. Silently, they nodded. There was a case now.

* * *

><p>It was freezing cold as Isabella walked onto the scene. She hadn't had time to change out of her dress and she kept the coat wound tightly closed.<p>

"I have to say, I want to hug this killer. It got me out of spending more time with my brother's best friend who has a thing for me," she commented with her kit in hand.

"Makes me wonder what's under that coat," Sam winked. Isabella smirked.

"Nothing you'll ever see, Thomas," she declared. Don chuckled. Her head turned to look at him, feeling her heartbeat quicken a little. _Whoa, where did that come from?_

"Lemme guess, he saw your dress and went nutso?" he said. She set down her kit, tightening the cinch of her coat. It was freezing outside in New York, and she was about to freeze her ass off.

"He goes nutso when he sees me in sweatpants," she retorted. She bent down next to the body and opened her kit. The minute her skin met the blacktop, she yelped.

"God, it's so cold outside," she muttered. Stella chuckled as she pulled on her gloves.

"How short is your dress, Isabella?" she asked. Isabella smirked.

"I let Aiden dress me. It's pretty far above my knee, I wasn't banking on working tonight," she replied.

"Hey, shorty, I'm grabbing some coffee if you wanted to come. Squad car's got heat," Don said. She smiled.

"You're a lifesaver, Flack," she told him, standing up.

In the toasty warm squad car, Isabella finally let her dark hair out of the bobby pins and dug an elastic out of her clutch.

"I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down," Don commented. Isabella looked over at him, feeling a soft blush creep onto her cheeks.

"I hardly ever wear it down. It's too long for me to keep down at work, so it's just easier to keep it off my neck in a ponytail," she explained.

"So, how are things?" he asked. She shrugged, keeping her legs crossed and her coat securely closed. She knew she was not properly dressed to be working, but she had to work.

"Things are pretty well. Don't be surprised if I call in sick tomorrow because of hypothermia, I really regret letting Aiden dress me," she replied. He chuckled as they pulled up to a Starbucks.

"Want to stay in the car or come in with me?" he asked. She felt a smile start to form as she nodded.

"I'll go in," she replied.

* * *

><p>Don helped her out of the car, trying to keep his eyes from her legs and the dangerous stilettos she wore. His mind kept betraying him as he wondered just what kind of dress she wore under the coat.<p>

"Lemme guess, you're warm now?" he finally spoke up as they stood in line. She let out a peal of laughter next to him.

"Do you really want to see my dress, Don?" she asked.

"If you want to show me, I don't care either way," he replied. His eyes slid over at her, and settled on the smile that remained fixed to her face.

"Liar," she teased. As they approached the counter, he saw her take off her coat out of the corner of his eye. A red flash caught his attention as he turned his head. Damn, those studies on red were right. Women who wore red were definitely sexier. The one-shouldered mid-thigh length dress looked _hot_. And now, he was in trouble. He thought he had liked her before, but that attraction had just run deeper.


	13. Jealousy Will Drive You Mad

**_A/N: I am soooo tired, but I am forcing myself to post this! IT WILL BE DONE, DAMMIT!_**

**_I wanted the love triangle to take off from here...it needed to happen  
><em>**

**_SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Ha, didn't I tell you Sam was hot? He's just...ahhh! It was either James Denton for Sam or Josh Turner. Look him up, both of those men are delicious. And sure, lol, I'll send him your way! I think Sam's a smooth operator...he could give Don a run for his money ;D I think Levi's a little jealous of his younger brother moving in on his colleague, but who knows? There could be an Aiden/Levi thing going on, but I'll never tell!  
><em>**

**_bel canto bueno: I'll give you the link on my profile, be lookin' for it! And that's in case the link doesn't work in private message. I really adore writing Emmett, he's so...oblivious. And mischievous ;D He knows quite a bit about our little Pacino friend here, and given half a chance, he'll gladly spill the beans about her!_**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thanks for the review! Hope my story continues to live up to your expectations!  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Jealousy, yes, jealousy<br>Will drive you mad!_

_His eyes upon your face  
>His hand upon your hand<br>His lips caress your skin  
>It's more than I can stand<br>Why does my heart cry?  
>Feelings I can't fight<br>_

Moulin Rouge — El Tango De Roxanne (Perfect song for this situation...)

* * *

><p>Isabella walked down the hall to her apartment, heels in hand. She fished her keys out of her clutch and unlocked her door, ready to open it. Work had been killer and she had been forced to process a crime scene in high heels because she hadn't had time to put on sensible shoes and pants. Her feet were killing her, she had a splitting headache, and she felt like a human Popsicle. Isabella tossed her keys onto the counter, her tired eyes going to the digital clock on the stove. It was six thirty in the morning and she was just getting off work. She shivered deliciously against the welcoming heat of her apartment. It was home to her now, she had everything she needed for it to feel like home.<p>

"Happy freakin' birthday to me," she muttered to herself as she hung up her coat. She tossed her shoes into the closet and let her hair down from her ponytail. After peeling off her dress and hanging it up, she scrounged around her dresser for a pair of pajamas. After selecting a pair of fleecy black sweatpants and an old Carolina Hurricanes hockey T-shirt, she crawled under the thick covers of her massive bed and curled up in a ball.

Just when she was about to fall asleep, there was a soft knock on her front door. Isabella groaned and rolled out of bed, scuffling across the floor towards the front of her apartment.

"Yeah?" she asked, her sleepy eyes coming up to rest on Sam Thomas.

"Hey, sorry if I woke you up. I just wanted to say happy birthday," he said, handing her a bouquet of flowers.

"Oh," she murmured, looking at the pretty flowers. After living in Ireland, she had learned the language of flowers. It had a beautiful assortment of camellias, forget-me-nots, cymbidium orchids, and a single red rose in the center, wound intricately together with ivy tendrils.

"They're so pretty," she said, going up to meet his gaze. Her heart thudded unevenly in her breast as she smiled shyly at him. "Thank you, these made my day."

"I heard your birthday dinner was interrupted. I'm not doing anything this Friday night, if you wanted a redo of it. Who knows, maybe on a wild fling, I can make you smile some more or a laugh if I'm lucky," he said, a boyish smile on his face. A delicious shiver ran down Isabella's spine, running from her nose to her toes.

"That sounds good, I'll let you know of a time," she replied, her eyes going back to the unique display. The sweet smell of flowers greeted her senses.

"How did you find flowers in December?" she asked him. He chuckled, rocking back on his heels.

"I know a guy," he replied enigmatically. Her smile broadened as she let out a light laugh. Fatigue had vanished in the wake of the flowers and the warm birthday wish.

"Let me guess. You'd have to kill me if you told me, right?" she teased.

"Oh no, my mother raised me better than that. I don't kill beautiful women like yourself," he replied. Glancing over her shoulder, she bit her lip.

"Would you like some coffee while I put these in water? My mama raised me better than to leave a handsome man like yourself in my hallway," she countered with a playful wink.

* * *

><p>Isabella was parked on her couch, a warm mug of coffee in her hands. Sam was sitting in the chair next to the couch, looking over at her.<p>

"Sorry, I must look terrible right now. I just got off work," she apologized, curling her legs to her chest. Sam simply gave her a smile.

"Hey, when I see you at work, I see you as a professional. Ready for danger, ready to work. This side of you seems more human, more real," he said. She returned the smile and took a sip of her coffee. Isabella couldn't explain it, but she hated straight-up dark roast coffee. She preferred it flavored with cream and sugar. His expressive green eyes were on hers and she could tell he was carefully choosing his next words.

"Are the rumors true about you and Flack?" he asked finally. He was straight-up about it, which she had to admit, she liked. Sam didn't jerk her around or go around a bush. What the hell kind of rumors were being spread?

"What rumors?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Well, you hear squad-room gossip, and the word is that you two got caught in a very compromising situation," he said. Isabella frowned, her mind racing in a million different directions to wrap around the statement. As far as she knew, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"What situation? I don't understand," she stated. He clearly looked uncomfortable.

"In the sparring room," he said. That was when it clicked. Isabella felt her mouth open and her eyes widened in horror as she realized what he meant. The sparring/grappling session with Don.

"Oh, that," she gasped. Her hand went over her mouth as she shook her head. "No, that was nothing. He and I were sparring and I was trying to pin him down. I guess that we didn't think of how it might look to others."

"So, why is it that you live across the hall from him? If I'm being nosy, just tell me," he said. She let out a laugh of relief and slight embarrassment.

"His roommate is my brother. He and Levi live together and my brother wanted to keep an eye on me," she explained.

"I feel a lot less threatened now," he said. Isabella set her mug on a coaster on the coffee table and looked at him. His green eyes turned playful as he met her gaze.

"There's no reason to be," she informed him.

"I guess I've been very straightforward about my intentions," he said. A smile flickered on her lips as she surveyed his handsome face.

"Indeed you have. If you feel I've led you on in any way, that was not my intention," she replied.

"I'm a man who goes after what he wants, Isabella. Every day, I work with women who know how to tempt a man. You're not a temptation," he stated. She raised her eyebrows as she took another sip of her coffee.

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"You don't tempt me, you intrigue me. If you'd give me a chance, I'd like to get to know you better," he told her. She felt her smile widen as she fiddled with the drawstrings of her sweatpants.

"It'd be a terrible idea. We work together," she said, looking at her pants.

"Not as closely as you work with others," he pointed out.

"We'd hardly see each other outside of work."

"That's the beauty of text messaging and phone calls." He smirked at her.

"I think we have a chance and I'd love to see that chance happen."

* * *

><p>Don's eyes flickered to the pair at the crime scene. Isabella had a smile broken out on her face as a giggle burst from her lips.<p>

"Congrats," he said, nodding to Sam. She tilted her head before a knowing look crossed her face.

"Oh no, we're not together. He just wanted to talk to me later," she informed him. Don Flack wasn't a jealous man, but he couldn't help but feel resentment towards Sam Thomas. Was it protectiveness that he was feeling? Today, Levi was announcing his departure from Homicide and into the Narcotics Unit.

No, he knew he had long felt these feelings for Isabella Pacino. And these feelings weren't going away any time soon. The only thing he wondered was if she felt anything for him. It was a simple little infatuation, sure to vanish like morning frost in Central Park. The look in her eyes as she surveyed Sam told him the truth: Sam liked her more than she liked him.

"Hey, Isabella, I know you weren't able to finish your birthday dinner, but Rangers vs 'Canes are on tonight. A little birdie told me you were into hockey," Don said. Her smile widened as she looked up at him.

"You heard right, Flack. Hockey and football," she replied. He smirked as he looked down at her.

"See you at game time, then?" he asked. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers sparkled mischievously up at him before she answered.

"You and Levi get the beer, I got snark, sodas, and beer," she replied.

* * *

><p>Sam watched Don Flack and Isabella Pacino standing closely together, talking under their breath. There was more than friendship and neighborly niceness between them, that much he knew. When her smile widened at something Flack said, Sam felt the cold, twisting stab of jealousy in his gut. Isabella was his. Not Flack's. He was going to make damn sure that everyone saw it.<p> 


	14. Game Time

_**A/N: My updating times might be less and less...I help my mom babysit my two month old niece and my three and a half year old nephew every day. Nine times out of ten, it's from nine to six. T-T But on the bright side, said nephew told me that I am just like Bumblebee from Transformers, only cooler. Aah, the things kids say...  
><strong>_

_**SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Ha ha, I'll give Sam to you when I'm done with him! I think we all want a Sam AND a Don lol**_

_**bel canto bueno: Yeah, but Sam was always meant to be a roadblock in this story. His story is explained later on ;D He's gonna prove to be a little bit of an issue...did the link work in PM?**_

_**matt-hardy-fan-101: It'll be a wild ride, I promise ;D It'll be nothing like SW!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I know you get me<em>

_So I let my walls come down, down  
><em>

Katy Perry — Teenage Dream

* * *

><p>Don had gotten used to the rowdy Emmett Bingham and Isabella's twin brother, Ian. They were hilarious once they had gotten comfortable. Ian had more of a quiet, snarky sense of humor. One would have to be pretty quick-witted to get his jokes.<p>

"Honey, I'm home," Isabella singsonged as she walked in. Her arms were full of bags and items as she trudged through the apartment. Don could tell from the sound of her voice that she was getting sick.

"Sorry, did you say something, honeybee?" Ian asked. She frowned and dropped a bag on his abdomen while he was sitting on the couch.

"For that, you can get your own damn stuff," she informed him before unpacking the bags. Don's eyes wandered over to her. She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a Carolina Hurricanes hockey jersey.

"So, how are we divvying up teams?" he asked her. She shrugged before pulling out a beer from the fridge.

"Hey, honeybee, can you get me a beer?" Emmett asked her. Isabella scowled down at Emmett.

"Do I look like your wife?" she retorted before flopping down onto the couch next to Ian. She held up a hand and took a sip from her drink. "Don't answer that."

Levi reached over and snatched the bottle from his sister's hand. "Aah, the joy of having the same DNA," he said, tossing his head back.

"Ass! You backwash!" Isabella complained. Don reached down and felt along the side of the chair for his extra bottle.

"Here you go," he offered. A look of surprise crossed her pretty features as she accepted the bottle.

"I'm gonna sound like an idiot, but I gotta ask. Where did you get that?" she said.

Don pointed to the section next to his chair. "I always grab two or three so I don't have to get up and get more."

Slowly, the people sitting on the couch nodded.

"Good idea," she said, rubbing her eyes. Her blue eyes were darkened with exhaustion and she slumped her head over onto Ian's shoulder.

"You tired, honeybee?" he crooned to his sister. She nodded.

"I probably won't last the entire game. One of you guys will have to tell me the winner tomorrow," she replied. Don tugged on her ponytail playfully.

"It was a matter of time before you got sick, shorty. I think last night did it for you, you know, when you showed up to work in a minidress and heels," he said. Her head lolled over to look him in the eye.

"That, I couldn't help. You know that," she pointed out. He chuckled.

"I'm screwin' with you, shorty," he informed her. She frowned deeply at him, blinking in confusion.

"For that, I'm doing the Hurricanes goal cheer," she said, turning her attention to the television. Don let out a snort.

"What's the cheer?" he asked. A smile twitched against the corner of her mouth as she turned to face him.

"One, two, three! He shoots, he scores! Hey goalie, you suck!" she replied, chanting each word.

"That's highly unnecessary," he informed her. This time she let out a giggle.

"You opened the can, Flack," she simply replied.

* * *

><p>"Seriously, Emmett, you're going to dance to Nelly's 'Hot in Herre'?" Isabella asked, looking over at the blonde man sitting on the floor. Levi let out a laugh.<p>

"Count your blessings, honeybee. At least he's keeping his clothes on," he replied. She let out a giggle and nodded enthusiastically.

"And no, I'm not doing the dance, Bingham. You're SOL," she informed Emmett.

"Why do they keep calling you 'honeybee'?" Don asked, looking over at Isabella. She giggled again.

"It's a dumb reason," she replied. Ian snorted.

"It's a good reason. When we were in middle school, Isabella would walk to school and there would a group of ten boys who would walk a good distance behind her. It was like the worker bees following the queen. Those same boys would do basically anything she asked," he explained.

"Seriously, I dropped my book once, and they all dived for it," she spoke up.

"Can you imagine how easy your caseload would be if you did that at work?" Don asked. She gave him a broad grin.

"Yes, but that would be cheating. The chick unis already hate me, I don't want to give them a reason," she replied.

"Hate you? Nah, that can't be," Ian said. She slapped her brother over the head.

"Yep, two brothers. With this one," she said, slapping Emmett over the head. "It's like having three. Why couldn't Carmen have been born into our family? It'd have evened us out."

"Well, we're getting married someday, Iz," Emmett informed her. Her eyes rolled skywards.

"In your dreams, Bingham. I ride solo," she replied.

"Bullshit. Talk of the precinct is that you agreed to go out with Sam Thomas," Levi said, pointing at his sister. Her eyes rolled skywards.

"Shut up, Levi, the game's on," she said.

* * *

><p>Don had remained quiet throughout the game, glad that the Pacino family quartet had talked only during the commercials. In the third quarter, Ian and Emmett had announced that they needed to leave. He glanced over to see Isabella curled up on the couch, her eyes closed tightly. Poor woman looked like she'd had a hell of a time.<p>

When the game ended, Levi gently woke up his sister. Her head lifted and she staggered to her feet.

"Here, shorty, I'll walk you across the hall," Don offered. She shook her head.

"Nah, I got it. Who won?" she asked. He helped her towards the door, opening it for her.

"Rangers. It was close, though," he replied. She nodded tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she walked towards the doorway. Isabella looked dead on her feet.

"Seriously, at least let me help you walk. You're tired and you look almost dead," he offered. The look on her face said she was about to argue, but apparently thought better of it. He laced his arm around her narrow waist to keep her upright. She shifted her weight against his torso and he could smell the floral shampoo scent of her hair as her head tilted towards the crook of his neck. Bad idea to offer help. She let out a yawn as she mumbled out a thank you.

"I don't think you're good to go into work tomorrow, Izzy. When was the last time you slept?" he asked her. She rubbed her eyes as they walked slowly across the hall. His other arm kept her against his chest as they stumbled into the hallway.

"I dunno. Two days ago maybe?" Her voice came out like a whisper, her words coming out jumbled. If he didn't know her at all, he wouldn't have known a damn thing she was saying.

"You're getting sick, you should stay in tomorrow and get some sleep," he informed her. She shook her head.

"There'll be plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead, Don. Don't worry about me any," she replied. After she stumbled away from him, he finally scooped her into his arms like a doll. Her lithe body felt feather-light to him as she curled up against him. He fought a yell of triumph as he stepped towards her door.

"You're warm," she muttered, nuzzling his neck. He chuckled.

"I do what I can," he replied, setting her down. She let out a massive yawn as she covered her mouth and dug around for her key. Don bent down next to his door and pulled the key out from under his mat, pressing it into her palm.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow," she said, giving him a tight embrace. He rubbed her side soothingly as he stepped backwards.

"Get some sleep, Iz. We need you fresh-faced, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed. Not dead-eyed, sluggish-footed, and physically drained," he told her. A fatigued smile quirked at her lips as she let out a chuckle.

"You never know when I'm gonna have to dropkick someone because they run, right?" she asked. He nodded once, amused by her wordings.

"Right. Good night, small one," he said. She reached onto her toes to slap him over the head.

"What'd I say about my height?" she asked. He ruffled her hair.

"Good night, shorty," he rephrased. A scowl marred her pretty face as she stepped inside.

"Not much better, but goodnight," she replied.


	15. Her Supposed Lazy Day

**_A/N: I love writing Don and Isabella together! I actually have a day off to write, which I simply love! Only six more weeks, and I'll be seventeen years old! 8D Happy birthday, me! Yep, my b-day's on 9/11, it happened on my seventh birthday...I remember when it happened :c 'cause my daddy had to be stationed somewhere else and I had to move from my town...anyways, it's time to write more!_**

**_SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Lol, I love you and your stories XDD The triangle-ism is gonna rock...but it's gonna more like a twisted obsession..._**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thank you! Your reviews make me smile =D_**

**_bel canto bueno: I sent the link again, it should work this time. 'Should' is the operative word..._**

* * *

><p><em>Today, I don't feel like doing anything<em>

_Just wanna lay in my bed_

_Don't feel like picking up my phone_

_So, leave a message at the tone_

_'Cause today, I swear I'm not doing anything_

Bruno Mars — The Lazy Song

* * *

><p>Isabella was in hell. The sensation of her massive headache kept her glued to her bed, as though a symphony of angry jackhammers ran outside her window. She couldn't breathe through her nose, and she coughed every five minutes. Her body ached with tension and it felt as if her throat raw with white-hot flames.<p>

"I hate my life," she moaned, snuggling deeper under her covers. Her voice came out like a squeak and she realized in horror that in addition to being sick, she had lost her voice.

Her phone was now ringing, causing her headache to intensify. She let out a squeaking moan before rolling out of bed and stumbling into the kitchen. Isabella had read somewhere that she would sleep better if her phones were out of her bedroom and it had worked so far. She flipped open the personal cell.

"Hello?" she squeaked. A low chuckle echoed over the line.

_"Mornin', honeybee. You sound terrible," Levi greeted her._

"Ugh, you live across the hall, why don't you just come in?" she complained. There was a sound of a key in her lock as the door opened. Isabella let out a groan and snapped her phone shut.

"I didn't mean it literally," she said as best as she could. She sounded like a thirteen year old boy going through puberty and she hated it.

"You sound like Ian when he was going through 'changes'," Levi laughed, curling his fingers for 'changes.'

"Shut up, I'm sick. Help me hide it," she said, sniffling. Of course, it sounded incredibly unattractive as she spat into the sink.

"Honeybee, there ain't no way in hell that you're gonna be able to hide that cold," her brother informed her. She pinched her face into a scowl as she crossed her arms huffily over her chest. She hated being sick and no one could make her do anything she didn't want to do.

"Oh, quit acting like you're five and go back to bed," he instructed her. Her eyes settled on her brother before she crossed her arms over her chest and let out a sneeze.

"Bless you."

"I'm not five," she grumbled. "I'm way more than five." She hated doing nothing all day. Isabella Pacino was a working girl. She thrived on hard work and knowing that she made a difference with what she was doing.

"Go get on your favorite sweats and get your bonkie," Levi instructed her. Isabella stuck her tongue out at him before shuffling her bare feet into her bedroom to change out of her pajamas.

"Hey, Mac, it's Levi. Isabella's gonna have to take the day off, she's sick. She's sneezing, coughing, shivering, and her voice is shot. She wouldn't be much help," she overheard her brother saying on the phone.

"No, Levi! I'm fine!" she yelped, coughing as her throat burned harder as she let out the yell. She rubbed her throat as she bolted from her bedroom, her blanket wrapped tightly around herself. Her bare feet padded against the hard wood floors as she ran towards him.

"Yeah, you heard that? Alright, I'll take away her gun and badge so she doesn't try to play hooky on her sick day," Levi said, moving away from his sister. When Isabella finally stopped, he pressed his cold hand to her forehead. "She's got a little bit of a fever, too."

Isabella crossed her arms petulantly before narrowing her eyes into a steely glare. Her favorite fleecy yellow blanket had panda bears decorated all over it and was her favorite thing to cuddle when sick.

"Enjoy your day off, Ferris Bueller," he said, kissing the top of his sister's head before walking towards the front door. Isabella grudgingly wiggled her fingertips in a goodbye wave as the door closed. She flopped onto her couch, letting out a cough. You had to starve a fever and feed a cold, but what if you had both? It was an hour before she finally had gotten to her feet to find something to eat.

She opened her old sixties-style fridge to search for juice of some sorts. The only liquids she had was bottled water, apple juice, milk, soda, and alcohol. She curled her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she looked over the contents of her fridge. Eggs, lunch meat, veggies, fruits, and other stuff.

"I need to get some chicken soup somehow," she muttered before climbing onto her counter to hunt for a phone book. After calling around the city for diners that deliver soup, she finally found one. Tillary's Diner.

"Hey, I was wondering if y'all deliver?" she said into the phone.

_"Ah, yes ma'am, we do. What would you like?" a polite woman asked on the other line. _Just the soothing sound of the woman's voice was enough to brighten her day.

"Do y'all have chicken vegetable soup?" Isabella asked, hoping it did.

_"Yes, we do. What size would you like?" _the woman asked.

"Biggest that you have. If you could, would you please put in some garlic and some hot sauce? I have a really bad cold, so I'd love some of that," Isabella requested, pulling her phone away to let out a cough.

_"We certainly can. Would you like a drink to go with that?" she asked. _

"Please! If you have 7-Up or Sprite, that would be phenomenal," Isabella replied gratefully. Her body relaxed at the news that there would soon be a reprieve for her sickness.

"Do you have discounts for the NYPD?" she asked hopefully. The woman let out a soft laugh.

_"We do. All you'll need to do is show your badge to prove that you're a member of the NYPD and you get a fifteen percent discount. Your delivery should be there in about fifteen minutes," she replied._

Isabella rattled off her address and thanked the woman for her time. She snapped her phone shut and shuffled into her room to change out of her pajamas into something more comfortable. Basically, she changed from flannel pajamas into her academy sweatpants and a tank top. Her bare feet padded on the hardwood floors as she slid her blanket over her shoulders again. She walked towards her fridge again, pulling out a can of 7-Up and setting it on the counter. After she had successfully gotten a glass down, she filled it with ice and poured the can's contents into the glass. Her throat quit raging quite so badly after she took a dose of Tylenol for it. Her headache had ebbed after the dose, and after she had massaged her temples to alleviate the pressure and tension.

There was yelling in the apartment next door. Isabella couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it sounded serious. She shrugged it off and looked at the clock. Any minute, her soup would be there. After a minute, there was a knock on the door. Isabella let out a sigh of relief as she opened the door. A short, well-muscled man held a container of soup in his hand. The nametag on his shirt read 'Skip.'

"That'll be eight dollars and seventy-five cents," he said. His platinum blonde hair stuck out from under his cap as he held out the cup. Isabella walked over to her purse, digging the money out of her wallet. She had it in exact change as she handed it to him. Pulling out her badge, she flashed it to him.

"Thanks," he said, his voice a flat monotone as he handed her the soup and walked away. She gratefully set the Styrofoam soup on the counter, peeling back the lid. The smell of the chicken broth wafted into her stuffy nose, the steam clearing her sinuses. Now, she could smell the soup better. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the food as she dug a spoon out of the silverware drawer to eat.

Being sick wasn't as bad as she had thought.

* * *

><p>Isabella clutched a bag of trash in her hand as she dragged it out of her apartment, ready to toss it down the chute. Silence. When she opened the chute, a body stared back at her. She let out a shriek as she stepped backwards. The body was that of a young woman, possibly in her late teens. She was dead, her eyes had already glazed over.<p>

She dug her phone out of her sweatpants pocket and she flipped it open to call 911.

"This is Detective Pacino requesting backup," she said, rattling off her address. She walked back into her apartment to find her badge and gun, as well as a pair of latex gloves while she was on hold.

"Mac, it's Izzy," she said, thankful her voice was back slightly. It was still shot.

_"How're you feeling?" he asked. _

"Better. I have had soup and while taking my trash out, I found a body in my chute. I'm trying my best to keep the chute taped off, y'all need to get here fast," she replied.

_"I'll have Danny and Aiden over there as soon as possible. Try and tape it off, but get some rest. After they get your statement, I want you off the case," Mac instructed her. _Isabella frowned, but knew she was going to comply.

"Alright, Mac, I'll see what I can do," she replied. She flipped her phone shut and leaned against the wall. After putting on her gloves, she pressed against the victim's skin. It was still warm to the touch; she hadn't been dead long. Where had she known this young woman from?

Then, it hit her. She was her neighbor's daughter. What was her name? Ashley? Amanda? No...

Ariana? No...it was something similar to her own name. Arabella! That was it!

Arabella...Potter. That was it. Arabella Potter. She was no older than seventeen and had a very gentle heart.

The sound of the elevator dinging caused Isabella to turn her head.

"Over here, y'all," she called. Uniformed officers stepped off of the elevator and walked towards her. Aiden and Danny were amongst the last to show up. Sam was the responding detective on the case.

"Talk about taking your work home with you, shorty," Danny joked. Isabella smiled, wishing she had her blanket with her. The hallway was freezing cold and she rubbed her arms to warm herself up.

"Victim's name is Arabella Potter, she's seventeen years old. Lives next door to me, she visits her daddy every other weekend," she said, nodding to the chute.

"Do you know her personally?" Aiden asked. Isabella shrugged in response.

"I've spoken to her a few times, we've said hello in the hallway and elevators a few times. Nothing major, but she's a very sweet girl. It's hard to believe anyone would want to hurt her," she responded. Kicking herself mentally, she realized that one of the voices that she had heard was Arabella's. She had heard the killer over the other side of the wall. About twenty minutes after the argument had ended, she had found the body.

"Who found the body?" Sam asked. Isabella raised her hand.

"I did. When I put on the gloves to touch the body, she was still warm. I wanted to make sure she was actually dead and not slightly alive," she replied.

"We can't ask for a better eyewitness," Aiden said, standing up. "Did you hear anything?"

"I heard arguments on the other side of my living room wall while waiting for a delivery. I'd heard arguments over the past few days, but I hadn't really paid attention to it, sad to say. Now that I think about it, Arabella was arguing with someone and it was a girl, possibly a teenager," Isabella replied, letting out a cough.

"What time was the delivery?" Sam asked. She dug a receipt out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"The delivery boy's name was Skip," she replied.

"Alright, I think we got everything. Go on back into your little palace and get some rest, Izzy. You look good, but sound terrible," Danny instructed her. Isabella let out another cough and nodded.

"Sure, Messer," she replied. She handed her gloves to Aiden before walking back into her apartment. Today was her sick day and she didn't want to do anything but sleep and watch movies all day.


	16. Does Anything Ever Go According To Plan?

_**A/N: Ohohohohoho...what should I do now? Hmmm...**_

_**There's gonna be more explanation later on as to what happened on the date...  
><strong>_

_**SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Ha ha, yeah...Isabella has a knack for finding trouble when she least wants it and expects it...and trianglism is an awesome word XDD**_

_**bel canto bueno: Yay, glad that damn link finally worked! That website actually helps me write because I like to scroll through the pages...for some reason, it gives me a confidence boost. That's her big issue, poor Isabella's a workaholic, even on her sick day!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Time can never mend<em>

_The careless whispers of a good friend_

_And to the heart and mind, ignorance is kind_

_There is no comfort in the truth_

_Pain is all you'll find  
><em>

Seether — Careless Whispers (Yes, I know George Michael originally did this song, but Seether does it best ;D)_  
><em>

* * *

><p>It was Friday night now. Isabella stood dumbly at her closet, her mind going blank on what to wear. Sam would be there in an hour and she only had time to get dressed. Luckily, she had showered when she had gotten home, but it was still proving to be an annoyance to choose clothing. He had told her to dress warmly and nicely. Which was not how she was dressed right now. She wore a pair of black booty shorts and a purple camisole.<p>

"Alright, what the hell am I going to wear?" she asked aloud. She heard a knock on her door and it opened. Telltale sign that it was Don.

"Hey, Levi had me drop something off," he called.

"I'm in my room!" she called back. She bit the inside of her lip as she frowned at her assortment of dresses.

"Oh, is that what you're wearing tonight?" he asked. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him an eye-roll.

"Yes, because booty shorts are the perfect thing for a dinner date," she replied sarcastically. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"It's times like this that I wish I had Aiden or a gay best friend," she sighed, pulling out her phone. Her eyes wandered up to meet his own dark blue. "I'm not so mean as to ask you your opinion."

"I appreciate that," he replied. She let out a giggle as she stepped closer to pull out a dress.

"Sorry, was there something you needed?" she asked, looking up at him. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Never mind," he replied. "I dropped the thing off that Levi wanted. It's on your counter." He stepped a little closer.

"Call Stella, she lives for things like this," he informed her. She felt a smile spread across her face.

"You, my friend, are a lifesaver," she returned. Finally selecting a black mini-dress, she hung it onto the top of the closet. Don was a good friend to her. Her hair was twisted back into a messy bun, she had no makeup on. He didn't try to bust her ass for wearing booty shorts like Levi did. He got protective over her, but stood back and let her do her own thing. She liked that. Isabella respected him.

"I hate wearing dresses," she muttered as she slipped into her closet.

"Well, you at least got the legs for 'em," he replied. She poked her head out with a giggle.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy, Detective Flack?" she teased. After successfully zipping up the dress in her closet, she examined herself in the mirror. The dress hit mid-thigh, the sleeves were bat-winged. Luckily, it didn't have a deep V-neck.

"New York winter, all I'm saying," he coughed. Her hands went to her slim hips as she glowered up at him.

"Do you want to pick out my clothes, Flack?" she snapped irritatedly. His eyes rolled.

"You just got over a cold and you're wearing a shorter dress than you did before?" he pointed out. "I'm just talkin' sense here, shorty."

"Well, what would you suggest then?" she demanded, walking into her closet and taking off the dress. She threw it out of the closet, hoping it hit him in the face. Her back was to the open door and she heard a rustle of fabric as the dress hit her back, hooking itself onto her bra.

"Jerk!" she complained, trying her hardest to untangle the garment. She stumbled over a shoe and fell forward, hitting the floor. Unfortunately, she hadn't gotten around to putting her other clothes back on yet. Because now, much to her intense humiliation, she was laying on her stomach on her floor in front of her brother's roommate, wearing only a royal purple silk bra and matching boy-shorts. His eyes widened as he turned his head away. She sat up, scrambling back into her closet.

"Why don't I go?" he suggested. She was blushing profusely, she could feel it.

"Yeah, thanks for the thing, whatever it is," she replied. Oh dear Lord, she was embarrassed. She could look on the bright side that it was boy-short panties and not a thong. That would have only added to her already burning embarrassment. She wouldn't have been able to face him again if that had happened. She found the first black dress she could get her hands on and tugged it over her head.

She zipped it up on the side and thought it looked good. The neckline flattered her modest cleavage nicely, the hemline hitting her knee. It made her look feminine and elegant. This was it. This was the dress.

* * *

><p>Fumbling around for her contact lens case, she finally located it and opened it. In case things couldn't get worse, it did. Because, thanks to her clumsy fingers, her contact slipped down the drain. Isabella rested her forehead against the bathroom mirror and let out a whine of complaint. The one night she absolutely did not want to wear her glasses, she had to.<p>

"Dammit. Now I need my glasses," she muttered. After fifteen minutes of frantic searching, she had upturned leftover boxes, pulled-out and rifled-through drawers, and a whole lot of nothing. That only left one place. Levi's.

She walked out of her apartment barefoot, hoping to God that Don didn't answer the door and that Sam didn't stop by while she was gone. Isabella stuck her hand out and rapped on the door twice. After a moment, the door opened and she squinted to see who answered the door. She was farsighted and couldn't see things up close without her glasses or contacts.

"I have to ask why you knock," Levi commented. She gave her older brother a smirk over her shoulder as she walked towards the bathroom.

"Because I have manners and because Mama done raised me right," she replied. Of course, someone was in there.

"Oh, Flack's taking a shower. You'll have to wait to get in there," Levi informed her. She planted her hands on her hips and let out a groan, walking into the living room. The layout of Levi's apartment was similar to hers, but rooms were switched around. The kitchen was near the front door and the bedrooms were in the front of the apartment.

"Of course. The one night I want things to go right, they don't. I just get over a cold and I'm all ready to go out and I drop my contact down the sink. Until my optometrist can see me, no pun intended, I have to wear my damn glasses which will clash with my dress!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"I think the dress is too low," Levi commented. She fought the urge to stomp her foot as she narrowed her eyes at her brother.

"Well, it's a damn good thing I changed out of my other dress, otherwise you'd try and escort me on my date with Sam!" she hissed at him. The bathroom door opened and a shirtless Don walked out. Politely turning her head, she felt her face flame again. Oh, if only she were nearsighted.

"Nice dress, shorty," he commented as he disappeared from sight. Hurrying as fast as she could, she scurried into the bathroom and grabbed her blue plaid glasses case and put the glasses on her face. Immediately, her vision cleared.

"Much better," she muttered as she walked towards the front door of the apartment.

"Look at the pros and cons of office dating. Personally, I don't think it's a good idea," Levi finally said behind her. She rested her hand on the door frame, hesitating before she answered.

"It's probably not going to turn into anything. Don't worry about it," she assured him before opening the door.

"Just be careful, honeybee."

* * *

><p>Isabella sat down at the restaurant, waiting for her date to arrive. Sam had called and told her to meet him at the restaurant and she had done so. It had given her a few extra minutes to get ready and now, her look was complete. She had kept her makeup simple out on date nights, a simple and natural look that made her blue eyes pop. Her delicate fingers played with the cloth napkin as she bounced her stiletto-clad foot in impatience. Her eyes slid over to her phone and checked the time. Sam was almost twenty minutes late, this wasn't like him. Isabella let out a deep breath as she smoothed out her dress front.<p>

It was an hour later that she realized she had been stood up. Without an explanation. The highlight of her evening had been banter with the waiter that kept refilling her water glass, slices of cucumbers swirling around in the dish.

"Ma'am, I think you've been stood up," Jimmy said gently. He was an older gentleman with a warm British accent and silvery-white hair. His comforting gray eyes met her woeful blues as she took in his words.

"I think you're right, Jimmy," she replied and stood up. He gave her a smile and patted her hand.

"Anyone who would stand up a stunning woman like yourself is a shmuck. I hope knows he missed out on a very special lady," he informed her. His compliment caused the corners of her lips to twitch into a tentative smile.

"With a beautiful smile to boot. You'll get the man you deserve someday, love. Don't let some unappreciative jerk get you down."

She gave him a gentle hug and a ten dollar tip. "You're a very nice man, Jimmy," she told him. He pressed the money back into her palm.

"Don't pay me for my time. Give it to someone who really needs it, that's what I do," he said. She wiped stray tears from her eyes and nodded.

"I will," she replied.

"What's your name?" he asked. "You know my name, but I do not know yours."

Her smile broadened as she looked up at him.

"Isabella. Detective Isabella Pacino," she replied. He took one of her slender hands in his and lifted it to his lips.

"Very nice to meet you, love."

* * *

><p>Isabella took off her glasses and fumbled around her handbag for her case outside of her apartment. Her lower lip was trembling as she fought back tears. How could she have been so stupid? Of course she would get stood up. On her birthday dinner-date with a very good-looking guy. God, the humiliation just got worse...<p>

Levi's apartment door opened as his face came into view. "Date's over already?" he commented. Tears rolled down her face as she looked up at her brother.

"He stood me up," she told him, her voice squeaking and breaking with each word. Her brother's eyes narrowed into a steely glare.

"I'll kill him," he announced. He stepped out into the hallway and held out his arms for his little sister to take refuge. Isabella threw herself into his arms, letting the sobs out.

"Why would he do something like that? He didn't call or anything," she whimpered. Levi kissed her forehead, smoothing her dark hair out of her face.

"He's an idiot, that's why. Sam Thomas doesn't know what he's missing," he replied.

"The waiter was really cool, though. That was the highlight of my evening," she said, sniffling. She wiped the tears out of her eyes as she looked into her brother's brown eyes.

"See? You made a new friend, the night wasn't a total bust," he pointed out. He wiped her tears away with a thumb.

"Go get into your pajamas and I'll go talk myself out of getting the cousins together and teaching Sam Thomas a lesson," he told her. She let out a snort and nodded.

"I thought he'd at least be a man and tell me that he wasn't planning on showing up," she said. He kissed her forehead again.

"Well, honeybee, Sam Thomas just showed his true colors and he's not a man."


	17. Have Yourself A Dramatic Lil' Christmas

**_A/N: It's Christmastime 8D I have never written Christmas chapters before, so let me know how it is. Yes, I know, it's August, but still..._**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Yeah :C It happens sometimes, though..._**

* * *

><p><em>Have yourself a merry little Christmas<em>

_Let your heart be light_

_From now on, our troubles will be out of sight_

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_

_Make the Yuletide gay_

_From now on, our troubles will be miles away_

Christina Aguilera — Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

* * *

><p>Isabella let out a happy sigh as she pulled her Christmas decorations box out of the guest room closet to start decorating the living room. Christmas was her favorite time of year. It always made her heart light and cheery. Of course, this was the first year she was on her own. She was spending it with her father and Levi this year. As she dragged her box out into the living room, the radio was playing cheery Christmas music from its perch on the windowsill. Isabella stood up, stretching her petite body. After wrapping up the case where the killer had been the one who had found the body, she was ready to relax. It was Christmastime after all! Her eyes wandered out to the windows where snow had freshly fallen, capping the city buildings and skyscrapers like a lovely painting. It reminded her of the time she and Ian had gotten into a pillow fight and their dachshund puppy, Leah had gotten a hold of the pillow. Feathers and stuffing had been all around the room as a set of seven-year old twins had been punished.<p>

"Ding-dong," Levi called as he walked in. Isabella's eyes rolled skywards and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yes, you are," she replied. He chuckled and closed the door behind him.

"What would have happened if I had said 'knock knock'?" he asked, his dark brown eyes dancing with mirth. She twisted her mouth before answering.

"I would've said 'you're a ding-dong'," she responded, closing one of her eyes in a wink. He winced.

"Point to you, honeybee."

He set a bag onto the counter. "I was going to tell you that I have sparkling juice for you, but now, I think me and Flack oughta drink it," he said.

Isabella let out a guffaw of laughter. "Yeah, you and your roommate sitting on the couch with sparkling juice and watching Sports Center. Real straight evening you got planned," she said. His face paled.

"You're a jerk," he informed her. She walked into the kitchen and patted her brother's shoulder.

"You wouldn't want me any other way," she replied and peered into the bags. Along with the sparkling red and white grape juice, there was also other drinks. She let out a happy squeal as her eyes settled on a bottle of cranberry Sierra Mist.

"Yep, I figured you'd go nuts over that," he said, his tone knowing. She grinned up at him.

"Thanks," she said, hugging him. He kissed the top of her head.

"That's just part of your Christmas present. Is anyone gonna be staying in your guest room?" he asked. She shook her head. "Good."

He walked into the living room and rapped on the door twice. The door opened and standing in the doorway in all of her five foot eight Italian-American glory was Aria De Luca.

"Aria!" Isabella screamed, running and grabbing her best friend in her arms in a tight hug. Aria hugged her back.

"I missed you so much!" she replied, spinning the smaller woman around. For two twenty-five year old women, they squealed like teenagers.

"How long are you in town?" Isabella asked. Aria's smile was contagious as she answered.

"My flight leaves on the twenty-seventh, so I have a week here."

"I have to show you around," Isabella said, hooking her arm through Aria's as they walked around her apartment.

"Your apartment is so pretty!" Aria commented, looking around as they walked throughout the space.

"Yep, I've lived here a whole six weeks. In that six weeks, I have finally unpacked everything and last week, while on my sick day, I found a body in my trash chute," she replied.

"When you can't go to work, take your work home with you. Makes sense to me," Aria said. Isabella's giggle echoed through the guest room. She hadn't gotten around to decorating and unpacking the rest of the apartment, so the remainder of the boxes remained in the guest room/storage room/study. Basically, it was a bare white room with a tiger oak chair rail around the entire room, the hardwood floors stretching into it. A full-sized bed graced the right wall and a dresser against the opposite wall, a telltale sign that the room was multi-functional. Aria set her suitcase and duffel on the bed and sat down on it. Isabella sat down on the bed next to her, crossing her legs Indian-style. She was wearing her favorite pair of short shorts and a tank top, so her legs were free to stretch out as they pleased.

"What's it like working at the NYPD?" Aria asked, crossing her legs Indian-style as well. Isabella had always been envious of her best friend's style. Aria De Luca always had a flair of style. Both polished and elegant, yet classy and professional. She had no lack of male attention with innocent-looking doe brown eyes, long legs, a femininely curvy figure, jet-black hair, and smoothly tanned skin, with a killer smile to boot.

"It's pretty cool. The people I work with actually care about the job, so that's refreshing," she answered. A knowing smile spread across her best friend's pretty features.

"Any of 'em hot?" she asked. Isabella let out a giggle as she curved her arms around her legs.

"Some of 'em are, yeah. Sam, for one. Seriously, he's got that rugged country boy look, but he's from LA," she replied. _And Don, _she added mentally. _He's just got that sexy, snarky, smart-aleck edge._

"Ooh, is he that jerk that stood you up?" Aria asked. The sound of her apartment door opening caused Isabella's eyes to roll.

"Levi?" she called.

"Yeah, I'm in the kitchen," her brother called back. "Don's here, too."

Isabella rolled off the bed and tugged her shorts down so they didn't give people a free show. It was still awkward to be around her brother's roommate and best friend without her mind flashing back to that huge humiliation last week. She padded into the kitchen, Aria in tow.

"Geez Levi, you're here more than I am," she joked as she hopped onto a bar stool. She snuck a glance at her best friend, who was currently locking eyes with Don.

"Don, this is Aria De Luca. Aria, this is Don Flack," she said, gesturing between the two. A churn of discomfort clawed at her belly as she looked at them.

"Nice to meet you," Aria drawled, looking up at Don from her eyelashes. Her typical flirtatious nature was beginning to show. Isabella kicked her best friend's calf, causing the other woman to grunt.

"You, too," Don replied. His stunning blue eyes settled on Isabella for explanation. She gave him a smile before giving into the silent question.

"She's visiting from North Carolina for Christmas. She's staying a week," she said, crossing her legs. He nodded before turning back to her.

"Well, another Southern belle graces us with her presence," he said. Isabella couldn't stop the flood of annoyance in her belly as she fought a scowl. She really didn't like her brother's roommate hitting on her best friend. Or said best friend hitting on brother's said roommate.

"So, you known Levi and Izzy long?" Aria asked. Don smirked before nodding. His eyes set on Isabella again.

"I've known Isabella since her first day here and I've worked with Levi for a little over two years," he replied. His eyes settled back on Aria. "You?"

"Well, I've known those two since Isabella and I were in first grade," she said, her hands settling on her slim hips. "And we used to raise hell."

"Yep, but people grow up," Isabella spoke up dryly. Aria hip-bumped her before a grin plastered on her face.

"Well, we try. All that's changed now, is we have a bigger playground."

* * *

><p>Why was it that Isabella wanted to smash her face into a wall?<p>

"Izzy, you didn't tell me that Levi's roommate and partner was _hot_," Aria hissed once the men had left. Isabella's eyes rolled skywards.

"Must've slipped my mind," she muttered.

"Unless you've already called dibs," Aria said, her tone growing suspicious. A laugh forced its way out of Isabella's throat as she looked over at the other woman.

"That's a hoot. Me calling dibs on Flack?" she said. Aria leaned against the headboard of Isabella's bed as she examined her nails.

"Stranger events have occurred besides you falling for your brother's partner, best friend, and roommate," she offered as she slid a nail file out of her purse.

"Seriously, Ree-Ree, he and I are friends," Isabella told her. Aria chuckled as she shaped the file around her fingernails.

"Mind if I call dibs on him, then? 'Cause that is one thing I'd love to get my hands on...and my lips," she said, giving her friend a suggestive wink. Isabella threw a pillow at her.

"Ew, Aria. I'm gonna laugh when you get pregnant 'cause you sleep around," she retorted.

"Yeah, but at least I get some action. You, my dear, need to get laid. I'll bet you haven't even had a date since you got here," Aria replied.

"Aria Rene, you're a woman, but you act like a man," Isabella said. Aria patted her friend's knee.

"But what would you do without me?" It was true. Aria De Luca was eccentric, flirtatious, bold, vibrant, bitchy, and outgoing, but Isabella Pacino wouldn't have her best friend any other way.


	18. The Day Her Blue Eyes Turned Green

_**A/N: The friendship between Isabella and Aria has always been one that I love to write...it's dramatic, it's funny...it's just flat-out everything and a cube of sugar! But right now, I'm showing a completely different side of friendship: jealousy. This is gonna be a short chapter, but I hope y'all will like it...  
><strong>_

_**By the way, y'all...I'm a grandma! At sixteen T-T. My dog just gave birth to six puppies like...five days ago and we found them today. Here's the kicker: They're all very much alive and very healthy. Here's the other kicker: I didn't know she was pregnant! They're so cute, though. I've named them (Because it was MY dog that got pregnant, I'm her basic caretaker) Gunner, Riley, Zorro, Ninja, Scout, and Rebel. **_

_**Words from my wonderful reviewers~**_

_**bel canto bueno: Yeah, she's starting to get a little jealous over this...who knows, this could be the kick in the pants that she needs ;D  
><strong>_

_**matt-hardy-fan-101: Thank you!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I don't need no drama from this<br>_

_I know you've got your girl_

_And I don't need to do it on a ship_

_So, I'll see you next Tuesday (I'll see you next Tuesday)_

_So, I'll see you next Tuesday_

_If I ever get desperate or I'm so beyond faded_

_Just said "I'll see you next Tuesday"_

_Kind of nice how this morning, I would sit around waiting_

_And I'm not just being cold, I'm just watching you pretend  
><em>

Ke$ha — C U Nx Tuesday

* * *

><p>Isabella's hell was a different level from being sick. She knew now that she was getting jealous. This was a new emotion that she didn't welcome with warm, open arms. Her blue eyes were turning green with envy about the flirtatious banter between her best friend and her brother's roommate. Don and Aria were currently flirting up a storm.<p>

"How long are you going to torture yourself?" Aiden muttered in her ear. Isabella ran a hand through her dark hair, shaking out her wavy tresses. It had been three days since Aria's arrival and she was getting sick of walking on eggshells around her best friend. She had barely said a word, because Aria would smart off with some comment.

"I dunno what you're talking about," Isabella muttered back, crossing her legs and leaning forward onto her elbows. Her forearms crossed in front of her.

"Yeah, and I'm from Queens. You don't share, shorty." She glared at her friend, leaning back in her seat.

"I don't share a lot of things, Aiden. Doesn't mean I'm jealous," she muttered under her breath to her. Aiden submitted a chuckle.

"Never said you were. You came to that conclusion by yourself, which tells a completely contradictory story to your claim," she said. She sat down in front of her and leaned her head back into the smaller woman's lap. Isabella turned away, before gnawing jealousy drove her crazy. She had finally told off Sam and told him to leave her alone over the phone yesterday, ready to close that chapter. Her fingers raked through Aiden's dark brown waves, playing with the locks. The four of them were sitting in Isabella's living room after a long day of work.

"So, Izzy, when's your next day off?" Aria asked. Isabella chuckled as she wound tendrils of Aiden's hair into thin braids.

"Christmas Day, if there aren't any crime scenes," she replied. Aria wrinkled her nose.

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting you aren't SAU anymore."

"Well, CSI makes you work your brain more," Isabella pointed out, silently nodding to Aiden. Letting Aria know that Aiden was CSI as well.

"So does SAU," Aria replied. "And you don't need a fancy exam and a college education for it."

"I'm not gonna argue with you over this," Isabella sighed, continuing to run her fingers through Aiden's hair. The other woman was clearly enjoying this, her eyes were closed and her diaphragm seemed relaxed.

"Well, I'm just saying, Izzy. Your track record with sticking to things isn't exactly the best," Aria commented. Isabella dropped Aiden's hair and narrowed her eyes into a steely glare at her best friend.

"It's stuck so far and the other times were because I hadn't found where I belonged yet. CSI is where I belong and I'm sticking with it," she said, her voice dropping to a low growl.

* * *

><p>Isabella paced her room as she fought the urge to throw something. Anything. Her pulse roared in her ears as she clenched her hands into tight fists, her jaw clenched tight enough to where her breath came out in raspy hisses. She needed to get out of her apartment and do something. Of course, her damn car was still in North Carolina, with no plans of ever coming up to New York. Levi was at work, so going over to his place was out of the question. Right now, she didn't want to talk to Don. Isabella groaned as the thought of the snarky blue-eyed detective came into her thoughts. Why was he screwing with her head? Oh how she hated it. Before, she couldn't care less if he hit on another woman. Why did she care that he was flirting mercilessly with her best friend? The same best friend who probably wouldn't be returning to New York any time soon.<p>

She flopped face-down onto her bed and let out another groan. Isabella hated this more than words could possibly express. She was becoming what she had hated most: jealous.

She was jealous that her taller, thinner (the woman was a damn size two, for God's sakes!), prettier, more exotic best friend was able to capture and endear the hearts of those she met, while Isabella had to work for every good first impression that she came across. Aria had a charismatic charm about her while Isabella couldn't make a proper first impression to save her life. She was jealous of her best friend because she had succeeded in the one thing Isabella had subconsciously worked on for months in a first impression: enchanting Don Flack.

She was jealous that he was responding more to her.

Isabella was awkward, clumsy, snarky, sarcastic, and introverted. Aria was the exact opposite.

It was the day Isabella had gone from the CSI of the NYPD to the green-eyed monster jealous of her best friend. She stood up and walked out of her bedroom, trying to keep quiet. Of course, it wasn't a feat easily achieved with bare feet. She pulled on a ski jacket over her pajamas and a pair of black UGGs over her pants and went to go for a walk. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her.

Because in the hallway, against a wall with their faces together in a deep, passionate kiss, stood Aria De Luca and Don Flack.

* * *

><p>Don pulled away from Aria as his eyes met the surprised gaze of Isabella.<p>

"Oh hey," he greeted her. Silently, she turned back around and walked back into her apartment. But not before he had seen the utter betrayal in her eyes and the utter shock on her face.

"I should go talk to her," he said, turning away. A hand caught the collar of his shirt as lips met his.

"Let me," she replied. She bit her kiss-swollen lip as she looked over his shoulder. Finally, their eyes met.

"You didn't tell me that you had feelings for her," she accused. Aria crossed her arms over her chest as she surveyed him. Her dark brown eyes weren't accusing as they met his blues. Simply stating a fact.

"I don't have feelings for her," he said with a chuckle. The woman scoffed, resting her hands on her hips.

"Really now? I'm a detective, Don, just like you are. I learned how to read people and their body languages, that's what made me a good SAU detective. And every single move she made, you mirrored. Every time she spoke up, you wouldn't tear her eyes from her. Every time she sat down away from you, you kept glancing at her," she stated. Aria was right.

"Yet you made a move," he pointed out. She rolled her eyes.

"Because, sometimes it takes a stab in the back or a slap in the face to wake a person up. I've known her too long for her to ever lie to me, despite the fact that Isabella is indeed a very good liar," she replied.

"So, who's going to talk to her?" he asked. Aria chuckled, shaking her head.

"I will," she responded.


	19. Confessions of Two Stubborn Detectives

_**A/N: So I finally have time to update Welcome to the Jungle. I finally buckled down and wrote up a chapter of 'Storm Rising.' FINALLY IT'S TIME FOR THIS STORY AGAIN! I use that word a lot...'finally'.  
><strong>_

_**SM-FA-RaiNtrain: Ha ha, I'm not done with Sam yet ;D He's still throwing monkey wrenches into my plans...**_

_**bel canto bueno: Yeah, but she's the kind of person who needs to get slapped in the face metaphorically sometimes in order for her to wake up and see what's right in front of her! It's gonna be hard, not gonna lie, and it's gonna be drawn-out and ugly.**_

_**MesserGirl: Aww, thank you! ^0^ Your latest review on Rules of Attraction made me smile, I hope you continue to enjoy this!**_

_**matt-hardy-lover-101: I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!**_

* * *

><p><em>Made a wrong turn once or twice<em>

_Dug my way out; blood and fire_

_Bad decisions? That's alright_

_Welcome to my silly life  
><em>

Pink — Fuckin' Perfect

* * *

><p>Isabella leaned against her headboard of her bed, staring at the wall. When her bedroom door opened, she turned to look at the intruder. No tears had been shed, she was merely in shock. Aria hesitated in the doorway before coming in and sitting on the bed.<p>

"I feel like this is my fault," she said. Isabella gave a shrug as her blue eyes met Aria's doe eyes.

"It's not. There's really nothing to talk about," she replied. Aria raised her eyebrow disbelievingly.

"It's so funny how you think I don't know you. When I saw you, there was pure betrayal in your eyes. Pure hurt. And I put it there. It's my responsibility to own up and get you to own up," she said.

"There's nothing to own up for," Isabella snorted, crossing her legs.

"Mhm, I doubt that," Aria replied. Isabella sat up and looked her friend in the eye.

"And even if I did like him, why would you go and kiss him?" she demanded. "Because that, my friend, is a really slutty thing to do."

"Because, Isabella, sometimes it takes a slap in the face or a stab in the back to get you to wake up," Aria replied simply. Isabella growled and slammed her head backwards to hit her head on the headboard of her bed.

"I hate that you know me so well," she mumbled. Aria laid her head on her friend's stomach, dangling her long legs over the bed.

"It's the day before Christmas Eve and it's nearly midnight. What do you wanna do?" she asked. Isabella took a deep breath before answering.

"First things first, I need to get that image out of my head," she muttered.

"I say we watch dark and depressing musicals till dawn," Aria suggested. Isabella let out a dry laugh as she shook her head. Jealousy, bitterness, and betrayal still sat like an angry monster in her belly and she fought the urge to tell off her best friend.

"What?" Aria prompted, sitting up. Why was it that even when she wore sweats and ratty old T-shirts, she still looked like a model? It was unfair.

"Nothing," Isabella replied, curling her legs up to her chest. It was as if all of her old insecurities came bubbling back up and reminding her of why she had been so awestruck that Aria had still kept her as her best friend.

"No, tell me," Aria commanded, cuddling up closer to her best friend. Isabella took a deep breath, twirling a lock of dark, wavy hair around her finger.

"It's silly," she quickly disagreed. Glancing at Aria, she knew that the older woman wouldn't give up. "Seriously, I'll sound like a teenager."

"Then, we'll sound like teenagers together," Aria replied.

"It sort of made sense to me when I saw you two in the hall," Isabella confessed. "I mean, I'm not you. We look alike, but we're exact opposites in personality. You're way prettier than I am and I guess working here kind of made me feel like I was the star here for once. It felt good that people seemed to look up to me as a detective and here, I wasn't just Isabella Pacino, Aria's best friend. I was just Isabella Pacino, crime scene investigator."

Aria sat slack-jawed as she looked at her best friend. A few minutes of silence passed between them before she answered.

"What I'm trying to wrap my head around here is how you think that I overshadow you," she finally said.

"Seriously, Aria? You're full-blooded Italian. You're athletic, you're outgoing, you're vibrant," Isabella rattled off a few things.

"And you? You're freaking gorgeous. Everyone says it, everyone _sees_ it. You're way too smart for your own good, I mean, how many people can say they graduated high school at fifteen with honors? And before I had met everyone here, I was thinking you were miserable here. But you're shining bright, honeybee. You're twenty-five years old and you're a crime scene investigator. I know of people who are in their forties and twice your age and they're still scrambling to get their shit together so they can do what you do. I may be outgoing and vibrant, but I depend on male attention. You don't, you're probably the strongest, most independent person I have ever met in my life," Aria said. Her fingers slid down Isabella's silky tresses, shaking it out.

"How the hell am I strong? I run to my brother every time I hit a bump in the road," Isabella confessed. Aria chuckled.

"Because you had stuck it out so many times before that you just want reassurance. Not many people can say they studied abroad in Ireland, nearly get married and becoming filthy rich, run away because it wasn't right for them," she reminded her. Isabella's mind flashed back to Ireland about seven years ago, where she had lived in Belfast with her grandparents. She was to learn about her mother's ways and do what her mother hadn't. Which, as Isabella had found out later on, was marry a man her grandparents had picked out for her and inherit her grandparents' estate. Plus, a large chunk of money...

Isabella had met the man that she was expected to marry, but had soon realized that he had only been marrying her for the money and the power. The feeling she got in her gut when she looked at him hadn't helped either. Ardan O'Dwyer, while he had been good-looking, had a tyrannic temper. Luckily, she had gotten out of there.

"That's true," she agreed. Ardan's dark features appeared in her mind like a long-lost photograph and she chuckled. Yes, his dark green eyes and shaggy dark hair were very sexy, but it was like she had been engaged to darkness.

"And how many people could punch out said tyrannic fiancee because he called you a half-breed? That you should count your blessings that he was willing to overlook your 'unfortunate' Italian heritage?" Aria pointed out. Isabella let out a groan and rolled over to look at her best friend.

"Do you think Don likes me?" she asked, almost shyly. Aria kissed the top of her friend's head, rubbing her arm.

"You'll never know if you don't find out. You're not a bold person, but it's better to know the truth rather than torture yourself," she replied.

* * *

><p>It was time he had been honest with Levi. Don sat down across from his best friend and roommate, studying him intently.<p>

"Alright, I haven't been completely truthful with you," he started.

"If you've screwed up somehow, I think I'll be able to clean it up and you'll just get a slap on the wrist," Levi said, chuckling and leaning back in his seat.

"That's not what I'm referring to," Don informed him. Levi's dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed the younger man. Gunner was currently stretched across his lap, slumbering peacefully.

"Then, what is it? If it's something deeply personal, I won't tell anyone," he said. His fingers played with the sleeping beagle's ear.

"Well, it's not something I've admitted aloud, but I think it's time to," Don replied. Levi narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

"You're not gay, are you?" he asked. Don's eyes popped open wide as he shook his head vehemently.

"Hell, no!" he replied. The older man let out a deep breath.

"Thank God. That would've been awkward," he said.

"I think I — no, I know I do — have feelings for your sister," Don finally blurted out.


	20. Fearless

**_A/N: 8D People have admitted their feelings for each other...now, we're making progress! Thought I'd try my hand at writing Levi's point of view in all of this...so until the next line, this is Levi's point of view...  
><em>**

**_bel canto bueno: Yeah xD I love writing Aria. If you like her in this, you'd love her in my first CSI:NY story 'To Catch A Killer'. About Levi: He never does anything you'd ever expect! That's what I love about him xD How I picture him in my head...he just surprises me!_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Well, I've posted a picture of Isabella on my profile. Plus, what I'm hoping to describe it as, should paint a pretty vivid description! I always prefer to paint a vibrant picture of my characters rather than a precise one...  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Well, you stood there with me in the doorway<em>

_My hands shake, I'm not usually this way_

_But you pull me in and I'm a little more brave_

_It's a first kiss, it's flawless, it's really something_

_It's fearless_

Taylor Swift — Fearless

* * *

><p>Levi was stunned silent as he stared back at Don.<p>

"You like my sister?" he finally managed to say. Don nodded.

"It's better that I tell you now than have you find out later," he explained. Levi nodded mutely, his eyes on the younger man. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His roommate had a thing for his little sister? His mind immediately flashed to his sister, the pieces falling into place. Isabella seemed to have a sunnier disposition around Don. Her eyes seemed to light up just a shade with him around, her smile just that tiny watt brighter. It was as if Ardan O'Dwyer had been forgotten. Levi shook his head as the thought of that bastard around his sister came to mind like the unwelcome memory that it was.

"I see," he said slowly after a moment. It was difficult to wrap his head around, but not impossible. The thought of his partner and roommate caught up on his sister had his older brother instincts going into overdrive. Even though he had moved out of the house at eighteen, while Isabella and Ian were only ten, Isabella was still his baby sister. She would always be the little girl who used to squeal in excitement when he came home from school. She would always be the little girl who thought he was a saint, even when he had gotten himself jumped into Shadow's Blade. Isabella would always be the little girl who was his soft spot. Levi knew from the minute he had held his baby sister in his arms the day after she was born, that he would do whatever this little angel wanted. Nothing had changed, even though her personality had developed. Even though Ian had been her twin brother, she had been closer to Levi.

"She's my sister, Flack. You do know the implications of that statement, right?" he said finally. Don nodded. Levi knew that his partner wouldn't hurt her intentionally. They were opposite, yet so similar. Both were fiery as the deepest, highest flames of hell and there would be arguments between them.

"Yeah, I know. I've worked with her enough to know her professionally. We've hung out outside of work enough for me to know her personally," he replied. He had a point.

"How long has this gone on?" Levi asked, continuing to stroke his sleeping dog's coat. Don shrugged.

"Not sure," he admitted. Levi looked down at Gunner, who was snoring peacefully on his lap. The beagle twitched, his tail jolting.

"You think she feels the same?" he asked, looking back up at his young friend.

"Dunno. I guess I'm just sort of asking you your opinion on it," he replied.

"I prefer you over Sam, to be honest. All I'd ask is that you two don't..." Levi trailed off.

"Extreme public displays of affection?" Don submitted. Levi snapped his fingers and nodded, causing Gunner's head to rise.

"That's part of it," he replied. Don chuckled.

"You're talking about the possibility of me jumping her, aren't you?" he said with a grin. The words caused a sour stone to sit in Levi's belly.

"I'd much rather you didn't word it like that. I'm talking about appropriateness, because it'd be an office romance and those are always messy. As far as the affection goes, I'm talking about lap-sitting, lovey-dovey stuff," he corrected.

"If it does turn out to be anything, it'd be a very private relationship. It's your sister, that's why I'm telling you all of this," Don assured him. Oddly enough, it was a little reassuring that he had told him that.

"I'll give you the big brother speech, Don: If you hurt my sister at all, I will tear you limb from limb. And I will not be alone, because Isabella's and my dad live in the city and he's just a phone call away. Granted, we'd have to schedule it when he has a free day, but it will happen," Levi informed him. Don let out a dry chuckle.

"I already know I'm going to ruffle her feathers at one point or another, because Isabella is one passionate lady. You of all people know that I would never harm a woman intentionally. I already know that she's going to get under my skin," he replied. Levi patted his friend's shoulder before standing up.

"Then, go get her."

* * *

><p>"Touch of her skin feelin' silky smooth, color of cafe au lait, alright! Made the savage beast inside roar until he cried more, more, more!" Isabella sang as she danced around her kitchen to the tune of Lady Marmalade. They had watched 'Moulin Rouge' prior to their little kitchen karaoke party and things were back to normal.<p>

"Now, he's back home doing nine to five, sleepin' the gray flannel life," Aria chimed in as she held her spoon dramatically.

"When he turns off to sleep, the memories creep more, more, more!" they chorused before giggling. When the song finished on the iHome, they finally put the spoons away. Isabella hopped onto her counter top, swinging her bare legs. Sleeping in the cold with tons of blankets and wearing shorts and tank tops were a ritual for the two women. But unfortunately, a 15°F night had other plans, so it was flannel pants and T-shirts.

"It's officially Christmas Eve. What do you wanna do?" Aria asked, hopping onto the dated counter top next to her. Isabella shrugged.

"Bust out my Nutella, a couple of spoons, some of my sparkling juice and watch 'Black Christmas'?" she suggested with a grin. Aria gave her a high-five.

"This is why we're best friends," she agreed. Both women enjoyed watching old slasher films, it was a favorite past-time of theirs.

"Remember when Levi let us watch 'Amityville Horror'? I couldn't sleep for a week after that," Isabella said with a giggle. Aria let out a laugh as they padded into the living room to open the entertainment center and turn on the TV.

"I remember when he let us watch 'The Exorcist'. I still don't think Mama and Papa forgive him for that," she replied. Isabella gave her a grin as she went back into the kitchen.

"I'll get the sodas and the snacks, you get out the sofa bed and put on the movie," she commanded. Aria gave her a playful 'yes sir' salute before pulling the cushions off of the sofa and tossed them to one side. After lots of awkward silence, the two women had finally put up Isabella's artificial Christmas tree, which graced the corner by the window. It lit up the living room, casting a shadow into the kitchen as Isabella strained to turn on the light over the stove. After opening the fridge and getting the cream sodas in the glass bottles, she set them onto the counter before going to grab the Nutella. As far as her night was concerned, she was going to watch Christmas slasher movies with her best friend and do nothing else. After flopping on the sofa bed with blankets, pillows, and snacks, Aria flipped the movie on.

But, of course, no sooner had they gotten settled in with the movie, a knock was heard on the door. Isabella tossed the blanket away from her as she stood up and walked over to the door. She stretched onto her toes to peer into the peephole and Don's handsome face came into view.

She slowly slid the deadbolt backwards and unlocked the door. After the chain was slid away from the frame, she opened the door to look up at him.

"Hey," she greeted him. He looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. His water-blue eyes met hers before he spoke.

"Hey, can I talk to you real quick?" he asked. Isabella glanced over her shoulder to see if Aria was paying deep attention to the movie. The intense look on her best friend's face as she stared at the screen gave her her answer. She quickly stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Unfortunately, the window in the hallway to the fire escape was open and a cold breeze blew in. She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked up at him.

"Yeah?" she said, tilting her head. He looked relaxed as he looked down at her, oceanic blue meeting blue-flame.

"So, did you talk to Aria?" he asked her. She glanced at the door again before answering his question.

"What is there to talk about with her? You kissed her; so what?" she said, rubbing her arms to create friction, which ultimately created warmth.

"I know, but you looked kind of upset over it," he replied. She tried to shrug, but keeping warm would have been a bit difficult.

"I was a little upset that my friend was spending so much time with my brother's friend than with me," she said, trying to make it look like an admission.

"Hey, she's cool. I wasn't going to take it farther than that, it wouldn't have been right," he replied, his hands in his jeans pockets. He wore a Rangers sweatshirt over the jeans, his usually neat hair hanging in his face. It was a ragged look, which Isabella had to admit was adorable.

"Well, what you do is your business," she informed him. A sarcastic look flashed in his eyes as he gave her a half-grin.

"Oh, thank you! I can finally do things my way!" he said. She reached out and slapped his arm, shivering again. Goosebumps were broken out on her skin as her teeth chattered together.

"You cold?" he asked. Her turn for sarcastic snark.

"Nah, it's a new dance I'm learning," she retorted. He chuckled.

"It's a little twitchy," he informed her, waving his hand a little. Her eyes rolled skywards as she continued to shiver.

"Here," he offered before pulling his sweatshirt over his head. His T-shirt slid up to reveal a bit of his toned stomach before he handed the garment to her.

"I couldn't," she declined.

"Hey, I'm tough-skinned. I've lived here my whole life," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes and pulled the shirt over her head, sliding her arms into the holes. It smelled good, like Old Spice or some other soap. The lining of the sweatshirt warmed her skin as she stopped shivering finally. There was a bite in the air still, but the already-warmed sweatshirt kept her torso warm.

"Thanks," she said softly. He nodded to her before looking over her head.

"So, what are you and Aria doing in there?" he asked. She grinned wickedly before she answered.

"Well, currently, we're having a torrid game of strip poker," she replied, tossing her hair. "I had to get dressed just to come answer the door."

His eyes darkened a shade as he looked at her. "Oh, really?" he said. She could tell he knew she was kidding, but the look on his face was still funny. Like he actually expected such a thing to occur. Or that she would tell him about it.

"We're actually watching Christmas slasher films on my pull-out couch with Nutella and cream soda," she replied.

"They actually make those?" he asked. She nodded twice before holding onto the sleeves, shaking it out.

"Yep. Currently, it's 'Black Christmas', then it's 'Jack Frost'," she replied. He chuckled, examining her.

"You don't look the type who likes slasher films," he said. She arched her eyebrow.

"I also don't look like a classic rock fan, a sports fan, an old TV fan, or a cop, but I am," she informed him. "Don't label me."

He looked unsure as he looked down at her. Isabella hadn't realized it, but they were now standing inches apart. She lifted her face to look up at him, their eyes locking.

"What are your plans for the twenty-eighth?" he asked her. As he spoke, she could taste his breath in her mouth, tasting minty and sweet at the same time.

"Are you asking me out?" she asked. He chuckled, his breath washing over her again.

"Don't answer my question with another question," he chided. "It's rude."

"As far as I know, I don't have any plans. That can quickly change, depending on how many homicides we have after Christmas," she said, blinking up at him.

"Well, your redo of a birthday dinner sucked because Sam Thomas decided to skip town and go to LA for the holidays. Would you be interested in spending that particular evening with me?" he asked. She had to giggle at the old-fashioned sounding words.

"Did you just bust your game out on me?" she countered. Their foreheads were nearly touching now and a shiver ran through her body. He was charming his way through this, something she had seen in action multiple times.

"What did I say about answering my question with another question?"

She took a deep breath before she replied. "I would be, yes," she replied. After realizing that they were indeed standing very closely together, she quickly skittered back a couple of steps, raking a hand through her hair.

"But only if you don't stand me up. I know where you live." He chuckled and stuck his hand out.

"Deal," he agreed. She slipped her hand in his to shake it. "But wear that dress that you were gonna wear for Sam."

She gave him a cheeky grin before she turned to walk to her apartment.

"Hey, Lionheart!" he called. Assuming it was her, Isabella turned to look at him. In one long step, he closed the distance between them. His hands cupped her face as he pulled her face up. Not even having a split second to prepare, she stretched onto her toes to meet his lips in a kiss. It was soft, sweet, gentle, and in a word, _amazing._ Her hands rested on his broad shoulders as their lips melded together. His breath tasted like it had smelled, of mint and something sweet. Chocolate, maybe? She didn't know. It was times like this where she wished she had eaten a mint after homemade lasagna with Aria a few hours earlier. When the kiss finally broke, his lips touched her forehead before brushing over her lips again momentarily. Her pulse like a roaring freight train in her ears, her heart thundering like a wild herd of horses, she merely stood dumbfounded before him.

"That's the way to seal a deal," he muttered in her ear. Her hands went to give him back his sweatshirt, still trying to force words from her throat to her tongue.

"Hold onto it 'til tomorrow," he told her. She chuckled and nodded.

"Alright, see you then," she said, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.


	21. We Need to Talk

**_A/N: 8D I love writing this couple...they're just so...ngh *less than three because FFnet won't load the less than symbol* Sorry that it's been so long since an update, I haven't had a free moment in a very long time!_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: xD It took me a minute to realize that. At first, I was like: ! Then, I was like: O: Ooh, now I get it. But I'm glad you like Levi xD I loved him in Rules of Attraction, he's always had that protective big brother thing going on, which I love. Although he may be cool with the fact that his partner's got a thing for his sister, I think if he saw them in the hallway through the peephole, he would've grabbed a bat and gone to town. Glad you liked the kiss, I wanted Isabella to bring out that little shy boy in him that we all don't see enough of on the show. _**

**_bel canto bueno: I squealed while writing that part. I was thinking of using another song for it, which would have also fit perfectly. (Look up 'Nothing Like This' by Rascal Flatts) Isabella always brings out that little flirtatious, child-like side of him and I wanted to bring that to life. I was in love with him in that scene as well, so I'm with you there. I wanted Levi to be supportive of it, but still be a little freaked out that Isabella's not his little baby sister anymore, that she's all grown up. _**

* * *

><p><em>Back and forth, the struggle consumes us all<em>

_Trying to keep a level head_

_In the most unsettling of times_

_Today, I'll become the bull_

Atreyu — Becoming the Bull

* * *

><p>It was Christmas Eve, at long last. Don sluggishly rolled out of bed, tilting his head to roll out the kinks in his neck. Today, he was expected to be at his parents' house around dinnertime to greet his brothers Jared and Jason as they came in from Detroit and Chicago with their families. Of course, he would get his ass busted for following in their dad's footsteps and it was to be expected. What he was most looking forward to was seeing his four little nieces who never ceased to make his day and put a smile on his face. There were no grandsons at this point, but there was plenty of time. The eldest granddaughter was Bethany at the age of six. After Beth, came Sophie at the age of four. Sophie had a little sister at the tender age of two by the name of Elizabeth. And after Elizabeth came Bethany's baby sister, Natalie. Don loved his nieces, they could ask him to go to the moon and he would do it. Gladly. Unfortunately, the Dragon had assigned him to finish his paperwork on Christmas Eve, so he wasn't able to go to his parents' house until much later. Levi had already left for his uncle's house, so he was alone until he had to start his journey to Queens to his family's house.<p>

When he arrived to the precinct, he saw Sam Thomas sitting at his desk. The LA-born man was busily scrawling on paper as he perused his paperwork.

"Sam," Don greeted the other man before sitting down at the desk. Sam nodded to him before turning back to his paperwork.

"Why is Isabella so mad at me?" he asked point-blank. Don raised his eyebrow, dumbfounded that the man would ask such a question.

"Are you that in love with yourself or are you just that stupid?" he asked rhetorically.

"My phone was stolen and my insurance just now paid for a new one. I had no way of contacting Isabella and letting her know what happened that night and I get a voicemail from her telling me that she never wanted to see me outside of work again. What happened that pissed her off so badly?" Sam explained. That made sense.

"What about when you were in Los Angeles?" Don asked. His defenses were rising and he could feel his protective side coming out. He had finally gotten this far and he wasn't about to have Sam Thomas in his way of this. Not again.

"I didn't have signal. Trust me, I was only gone three days and I tried every single way of communication to get a hold of her. She didn't answer my e-mails, she didn't screen a land-line phone call," Sam replied. The sorrow in the man's eyes almost made Don feel sorry for him. Almost.

"You stood her up," Don said. Sam frowned.

"No, I went to pick her up at her apartment and nobody answered," he replied. Something was very fishy about this. Very, very fishy.

"She said that she received a text message from you telling her that you two were going to meet at the restaurant," Don said. Now, his interest was piqued. His detective instincts were kicking in and he had to stop himself before he profiled the entire situation. He didn't like Sam Thomas, but Isabella was involved. That made it her brother's business, but her brother wasn't there at the moment.

"No, I never sent that message. I tried calling her later, but she never answered," Sam replied. What the hell was going on?

* * *

><p>Isabella was warm. She wore a pair of thick opaque black tights underneath her thick cable-knit leggings, a black T-shirt underneath her dark gray wool sweater dress, a pair of black UGG boots, and her thick black military-style trench coat. Her wavy raven hair was down and partially shrouded by her favorite turquoise winter beanie, her gloved hands shoved into her pockets. Yes, she was warm from her head to her toes. When she pulled open the door to the precinct to finish her suspiciously-appointed paperwork, her eyes settled on Sam Thomas. She lifted her chin before walking to her desk and taking off her hat, gloves, scarf, and coat to sit down.<p>

"Hey, Isabella, can I talk to you, please?" Sam asked. She turned her head to face him, her heart sinking a little.

"About what?" she asked angrily. How could he even dare try to explain what happened? She knew he was attracted to her, but he had stood her up when she had given him a chance. In her book, that made him an asshole.

"About what happened last week. I know it's a lame excuse, but it's not my fault," he said. Isabella fancied herself a lie detector. Something in her gut told her he was telling the truth. Should she give him the benefit of the doubt? Her eyes flickered to Don, wordlessly asking his opinion. He met her inquisitive blue gaze for a moment before turning back to his paperwork, muttering under his breath in Irish. From her time in Ireland, she knew what he had said.

"Tá sé do chinneadh, Leoncroí."

[It's your decision, Lionheart]

She took a deep breath before meeting Sam's hopeful green eyes.

"I'm listening," she finally said. He gave her a grateful smile before continuing.

"You're going to think I'm crazy, but my phone was stolen the day you and I were supposed to meet up on a date. Until I could get a hold of my insurance company the next day, I was without a phone. I heard that you had received a text from me saying to meet you at the restaurant, but I didn't send it. I had plans the next day to visit my family in LA the next day, I wanted to tell you goodbye properly. I had no way of getting a hold of you in order to explain what happened, I didn't have a home phone and you started ignoring my e-mails," he explained. Once again, her damn gut told her that he was telling the truth. She believed him, that much she knew. Yet a bigger part of her wanted to reject it. Things had finally started moving forward and she wanted to deal with that. The possibility of a new relationship. It was Christmas Eve and she was stuck at work when she could be in Brooklyn, where her uncle Antonio lived. Visiting her cousins. Carmen, Dante, Deangelo, and Elias were all going over there to celebrate the holidays, which delighted her.

"We'll talk later," Isabella told him. The precinct doors opened and her head lifted to see who it was. A fidgety man in a peacoat walked inside, a hat covering his face. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, unease growing in her insides. Her eyes never left him as he made his way to the front desk. More people filed in behind him. After the door closed, the man in the coat pulled out a hunting rifle. That was when bullets started to fly, the sound cracking in the air.


	22. Truth Comes Out

**_A/N: OOH WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN! WHO'S WRITING THIS STORY? Oh, right, that's me ;D Trololololol...I've had such a long day..._**

**_bel canto bueno: I know, I was trying a cliffhanger for once! I haven't left it in this much of a lurch before..._**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: I think he is sincerely sorry! I was going to make him demented, but I decided to make him nice instead 8D And yes, Sam is a very VERY sexy man..._**

**_Smexi: Thank you 8D_**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thanks 8D_**

* * *

><p><em>If you wanna get out alive<em>

_Ooh, run for your life_

Three Days Grace — Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella took cover under her desk, cursing mentally when she realized her piece was in her desk drawer. Sounds of screams and shrieks filled her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut at the piercing noise. Gunshots continued their sadistic symphony as they whizzed past the desk. Her heart crashing in her chest and pulse roaring in her ear, she dared to poke her head out of the desk. The sounds of electrical damage crackled in the now-still air. The florescent light fixtures hung from the ceiling, wires distended from the lighting. Drywall was scattered about the floor, desks tossed over in feeble attempts for shields. When Isabella glanced around, her eyes locked on Don's. He was safe. A cold piece of metal met the back of her neck as she froze in horror.<p>

"Stand up," a cold male voice commanded her. She slowly stood up, holding her hands in a defensive position. The suspect had a thick Irish accent, sounding familiar to her. Why did she know that voice?

"Call for backup," he pressed a phone into her hand. Fear gripping her like an ice-cold glove, she fumbled to press the buttons for Mac's cell. Isabella pressed it to her ear, her hands trembling with utter paralyzing panic. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she waited for the line to open.

_"Taylor," a gruff voice answered the line finally. _She let out a sob of relief.

"Mac, it's Isabella. We have a hostage situation at the 12th," she said, feeling her voice breaking. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she fought the urge to wipe them away. She knew that if she tried, she would most likely be shot.

_"You're at the 12th, aren't you," he stated. _

"It's me, Flack, Sam, Thacker, a few other officers, and a handful of unis. I don't know how many made it out," she replied, sniffling.

_"Are they armed?" Mac asked, at full attention now._

"Yeah, they're armed, Mac. I don't know what they want, but they've shot up the station," she replied. At that moment, the phone was taken from her hand and snapped shut.

"You've said enough, love," the man told her. She bristled as she felt her hair move from her neck. The man was stroking her hair gently.

"Turn around so I can see you." Quietly, Isabella obeyed. If she wanted to live, she needed to do what this guy wanted. Her eyes settled on his face and she knew that if anything else, she would be the one to die first. Because now, she looked the shooter in his cold, dead eyes. Immediately, she knew who he was. Ardan O'Dwyer. Her ex-fiancee in Ireland.

A sick smile curved across his too-handsome features as he surveyed her. Unease and disgust curled in her belly as he undressed her with his eyes.

"Tá tú gotten níos áille le himeacht ama," he said. She curled her lip.

[You've gotten more beautiful over time]

"Is mian liom a rá go bhféadfadh an gcéanna ar do shon," she retorted. Glancing at the gun, she could see it was a 30/06, a popular hunting rifle. Lot of kick.

[Wish I could say the same for you]

"You have something that belongs to me and I want it back," Ardan informed her. Isabella tilted her head in confusion.

"You're the one who ordered those men to toss my place. I really don't appreciate that," she said. He cocked the rifle, pointing the muzzle to her chest.

"I want the pendant, Isabella," he said.

"You shot up a police precinct to get to me and now you're making your demands? What pendant?" she demanded. She had known better than to accept gifts from Ardan.

"The pendant with the Stone of Belfast. It belongs to my clan," he replied. The pendant had been authentic white gold, with mother-of-pearl laced throughout. In the center, a flawless cut three-carat diamond was set. The piece of jewelry was priceless, having been passed between the O'Dwyer clan and the O'Malley clan for hundreds of years. On their wedding day, Isabella was to receive the necklace, but the wedding had been cancelled.

"I don't have it, Ardan, I've told you that a thousand times," she said. In her peripheral vision, she could see Sam holding his piece. Poising it for a kill shot. Silently, she shook her head. Telling him no. If Ardan was spooked, he would pull the trigger.

"You were the last to have held it," Ardan reminded her.

"You think I'd risk my own life to hold onto a piece of jewelry? I have jewelry, Ardan," she replied.

"The Stone of Belfast is worth over three billion dollars. Why wouldn't you steal it?" Ardan demanded.

"You think I would've gotten through customs with it? Besides, that would raise flags everywhere. I don't need a three-billion dollar necklace to complete my life. That was why I left Ireland, because that's not where and what I needed to be," she replied.

"So, you run from Ireland, where money sits in waiting for you, back to your little town in America? You leave a life of luxury so graciously handed to you to scour the streets and become the scourge your father was and your brother is?" he snarled. Her temper flared as she narrowed her eyes. How dare he insult her father? The insult he had called Levi set her temper way past flared. It was a raging wildfire as she spat her next words.

"_You_ are not one hair's breadth the men my father and my brother are. I left the life of gracious luxury because I didn't want to end up like my mother; so spoiled senseless that she didn't know how to be alone and take care of herself. I became the scourge of America..." she spat the word 'scourge' "as you so kindly put it, because I'm not the kind of woman who sits around and does nothing while others put their lives on the line for others. I'm the kind who's out there helping the others helping others. If I'm compared to them, I'm honored."

Ardan merely stood dumbfounded. Isabella was finally able to survey the carnage after giving him something to chew over for the moment.

"You stood me up. You made a complete fool of me after all I've done for you," he snarled. She planted her hands on her hips, still buzzed from her unadulterated rage.

"Yes, you've informed me of that before. My _unfortunate_ family history," she mocked the word. "My father is more of a man than you will ever be."

Gunshots rang through the air and Isabella flinched, trying to find the nearest cover. She had forgotten about this unwelcome Santa's little helpers. Someone had tried to come in and rescue them.

"You filthy half-breed," Ardan snarled as he curled his finger around the trigger. "You wasteful little slut."

"I'm glad I left your ass when I did. It would've saved me time and divorce," she spat. The minute he stepped closer, a single gunshot rang out in the air. As Ardan sank onto the ground, the tall silhouette of Don Flack stood behind him, service weapon poised to take another shot.

Immediately, Isabella sank onto the ground. "More blood has been shed for that damn pendant," she muttered, checking his neck for a pulse. Ardan O'Dwyer was dead.

* * *

><p>Watching Isabella put that bastard in his place had made Don Flack's entire year. Ardan O'Dwyer, or whatever that bastard's name was, had deserved every harsh tone in her voice a thousand times over.<p>

"Is it over?" he asked. She shook her head, her eyes meeting his. Her eyes were troubled and disturbed as she trembled. The shock of it all was immense.

"It's only the beginning," she replied.


	23. Why Did Things Change?

**_A/N: Now that THAT'S over with...a year later...close to 'Charge of This Post' (Heroes) And Isabella's having big difficulties with Aiden's replacement..._**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Ha ha, thanks. This should give us a bit more insight to what's happened earlier on..._**

* * *

><p><em>I have these pictures and I keep these photographs to remind me of a time<em>

_These pictures and these photographs let me know I'm doing fine_

_We used to be so happy once upon a time_

Willie Nelson ft. Lee Ann Womack — Mendocino County Line (AMAZING SONG)

* * *

><p>Why did things have to be so different now? Aiden was fired. Lindsay Monroe from Someplace, Montana was her replacement. Even worse, Isabella resented this Monroe person, because it was becoming like Aiden had never worked there. Like the job had been Lindsay's all along. It boiled her blood and she couldn't ever help her retorts at the younger woman. Levi had moved back to Wilmington to get married to his old high school sweetheart or something. It was bullshit. The only things that even kept her sane was her job, her apartment, and Sam. Finally, she had given Sam a chance after New Year's and things had taken off from there.<p>

"You should try being nice to Lindsay. She's actually very nice," Sam commented. Isabella looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes skywards. Now even Sam seemed to be working against her.

"She's like that little piece of dust on a ceiling fan that no one can get. An annoyance," she replied, sitting down on his couch. Even Don seemed to be ignoring her. In favor of Lindsay, which pissed her off beyond words and comprehension.

"I hope you come down from it, because she's a permanent fixture on your team now," he said, pulling her onto his lap to peck a kiss onto her lips. Isabella frowned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I just...don't like her. It's like Aiden wasn't even here," she confessed. She had spoken to Aiden yesterday, who seemed to be getting things together for her. The spunky Brooklyn native was getting her PI license and finally moving on.

"Aiden was your best friend, I get it," Sam said, resting his forehead against hers. Her heart sank.

"She and I worked countless cases together, Sam. She was more than my best friend...she was like my sister. I don't say that about many people. And now, it's like this job has been Lindsay's since day one and Aiden never existed. Lindsay's trying to horn in on everyone around her and it just pisses me off," she said angrily. Isabella stood up, rifling for her bag. Right now, she just needed to get out of there. Things weren't working. Before she snapped, she needed to get the hell out of that apartment.

While she walked down the streets, she took a deep breath. The brisk April wind blew restlessly, ruffling Isabella's jacket. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, because she now collided with someone. Stumbling backwards, her eyes met Lindsay Monroe's.

"Watch it," Isabella hissed at her before stalking down the sidewalk.

"Isabella, can we talk?" Lindsay asked. Isabella stopped dead in her tracks, fighting the urge to blow up at her. It was the perfect opportunity to let the other woman know _exactly_ what this Southerner thought of her.

"If I talk to you, I'm going to say things that will get me into some deep shit with you," she replied after a minute.

"I'm tougher skinned than that," Lindsay said impatiently. Isabella whirled on her heel to face her.

"Fine," she replied. As she took steps forward, her temper flared. Why was she so short-tempered today?

"I understand that you and Aiden were close, but you and I are actually very much alike," Lindsay said. Isabella took a deep breath, slowly counting to three before saying her thoughts.

"I'm going to stop myself before I say something that I don't mean. Be lucky I have such self-control," she spat. Lindsay chuckled.

"I'm not asking you to like me, Isabella, but it would make both of our jobs a hell of a lot easier if you would let up on your little rage-fest," she replied. Cool as a cucumber. Isabella wanted her to rage.

"You're the one who horned in on everything and you're asking _me_ to let up on you?" she said incredulously. How dare this woman lecture her on how to feel and behave?

"I took a job that was offered to me. Everyone here has been very welcoming, except you. It's been seven months since I started working here and you're making me feel like the odd girl out," Lindsay stated. She had a point.

"Well, if you were from what I was from, you'd take what you could get," Isabella snapped before turning to walk away.

"Look, I saw your files and your résumé, Isabella. You're a phenomenal cop, your instincts are always spot-on. Why are you so threatened by a rookie?" Lindsay asked. Isabella stopped dead in her tracks.

"I'm not threatened by you. Don't flatter yourself, Monroe, and don't think flattery gets you anywhere with me," she stated before walking away.

* * *

><p>Don heard angry footfalls down the hall outside of his apartment and glanced out of the peephole. He saw Isabella fumbling for her keys, angrily mumbling to herself and opened the door.<p>

"Hey, shorty," he said. She glanced over her shoulder, her icy blue eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"Oh, so now you're talking to me?" she sneered at him. Ooh, someone had definitely pissed in her cornflakes. Don stepped out of his apartment, holding her arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She tugged to remove her arm, but she finally sighed.

"It's nothing, just something stupid," she assured him briskly. Don had lost her to Sam last year, but he wasn't going to let her walk away from him now.

"If it is, go ahead and tell me." She pursed her lips, quiet for a moment.

"I'm just going to come across as some jealous, fickle harpy," she muttered.

"Lindsay's pissing you off, isn't she," he stated. Isabella let out a dry chuckle.

"And Bingo was his name-o," she replied. "I bumped into her today and almost slugged her."

"She's not Aiden, Lionheart. No one can take Aiden's place, Lindsay just took her job," he reminded her. A bright smile crossed her features and she gave him a tight hug.

"Here I am, being pissed off at you, when at the moment, you're my only true friend," she said. He chuckled and rubbed her back.

"Let me guess, even Sam's trying to get you to lay off?" he asked. She looked up at him, seemingly relieved.

"It's like you were there," she chuckled. Wanting her to let up a bit more, he gave her a retort.

"Yeah, I enjoy stalking you now. You should see what I turned Levi's old room into," he said. In reality, it was a guest room, but it was fun to joke.

"Need I remind you of my boyfriend?" she teased. No, she didn't need to. Don swallowed back bitterness and squeezed her hand.

"I'll see you later," he said. Was it wishful thinking to think he had seen sadness in her eyes? Even just for a moment?

"Sure," she agreed. They had never made their date last year, things had been too hectic after the shooting. The NYPD had lost seven officers, nearly lost Thacker, Sam had been shot in the leg, and Isabella had been barely grazed by a bullet. After that, there was never a shortage of officers in the station-houses.

She turned and walked into her apartment. Don closed the door behind him and let out a deep breath. Little did he know, on the other side of the door across the hall, a petite young woman was doing the same thing.

* * *

><p>Isabella looked through old pictures in her scrapbook, chuckling as photos from her time in high school came into view. A fifteen year old Isabella stood in one, graduating from John T Hoggard High School. Her long hair had been let loose, her arm around her then-boyfriend, James Ross. She had to laugh as a picture of Aria, Logan, and her came into view. Aria and Isabella had been sitting on a bench, Logan sprawled across their laps. The brown-haired man had grown up with Isabella. She had known Logan since she was two years old and had just moved to Wilmington from New York. After that, there wasn't a single childhood memory that she could think of that didn't have Logan in it.<p>

As she moved farther towards the back of the fat book, there were pictures from her earlier cop days. Graduating from the academy, her ceremony where she was appointed detective, pictures of the crime lab in North Carolina, and when she had started moving into her apartment in the Bronx.

But further towards the back, were pictures of her with the crime lab here in New York. Parties, get-togethers, her birthday dinner when she had turned twenty-five, candid shots. One that she would never admit to being her favorite was one where she sat between Don and Levi, very close together. Slowly, Isabella slid it out and examined it closer. She had really been happy back then. Things had been going so well for her. The very last picture of the book was a picture of her and Aiden on her birthday dinner the year before, when they had gone to Applebee's. They had decided to wear nice cocktail dresses for the occasion and order things with a straight face, despite their fancy dress.

Why did things have to change?


	24. The Worst Victim

**_A/N: Now, for the case where Aiden dies ;-; I don't like writing that..._**

**_bel canto bueno: I know, I hate that episode, too T-T It always depressed me_**

* * *

><p><em>I'm gonna miss that smile<em>

_I'm gonna miss you, my friend_

_Even though it hurts the way it ended up_

_I'd do it all again_

_So, play it sweet in heaven_

_'Cause that's right where you want to be _

_I'm not crying 'cause I feel so sorry for you_

_I'm crying for me_

Toby Keith — Crying For Me (Wayman's Song)

* * *

><p>The news nailed Isabella to the floor. The burn victim they found in the car had been identified as Aiden. Dental records and Fast-Scan had confirmed it.<p>

"Isabella, do you think you can work this case?" Mac asked her. Isabella nodded mutely as she looked over at him.

"It's just hard to believe that Aiden's dead," she replied, her voice in a whisper. God, she had met her for breakfast yesterday.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Mac asked. His tone suggested that he was asking the entire room. Danny seemed to be the most shaken up about it.

"We were going to meet up for dinner tonight," he replied quietly. Isabella's eyes turned back onto the screen. Aiden was dead. She wasn't coming back.

"I saw her yesterday. Yesterday morning, we met for breakfast," she answered. The two had had a good laugh as they discussed what was going on.

_"How's my replacement?" Aiden had asked, her eyes warm with amusement. Isabella had rolled her eyes as she answered._

_"She keeps trying to make friends with me, it's weird," she replied. Aiden studied her friend as she took a bite of her bacon._

_"Well, life goes on, shorty. Most likely, this Lindsay person won't get fired for tampering with evidence," she pointed out. Isabella let out a snort._

_"I know she won't. For the most part, she's a pretty good CSI," she replied, tossing a bite of her chocolate chip waffle into her mouth._

_"How's Danny treating her?" Aiden asked, looking up at her. Isabella let out a giggle before she answered._

_"Lindsay was his shiny, new toy. She doesn't put up with his crap," she replied. _

_"Did she fall for it at first?" Aiden asked. Isabella smirked before nodding._

_"Yep. He had her call Mac 'sir'," she responded. Aiden let out a peal of laughter as a disbelieving look crossed her features._

_"That's good, that's really good," she said. It wasn't long before Isabella finally had to go because the start of her shift was soon._

_"We'll do this again, right?" Isabella said, holding out her arms for a hug. Aiden hugged her back._

_"Definitely. Once I get more time, we will definitely hang out more, shorty," she replied._

Little did Isabella know, that was the last time she was going to see her best friend.

"Will I be able to trust you on this case?" Mac finally asked her. Looking up at him, Isabella bit her lower lip. She had to carefully choose her next words.

"I don't think so," she confessed. "In all honesty, I wouldn't be able to trust myself."

Mac nodded wisely as he stepped backwards. "I'll keep you updated as things come, but keep Danny in line. He's very upset."

"Sure thing, Mac," Isabella agreed.

* * *

><p>Of course, DJ Pratt had been the one to kill Aiden. It had taken three officers and Don to hold back Isabella from launching herself at Aiden's killer.<p>

"Lasciate che a lui, io lo ucciderò! Quel mostro ha ucciso Aiden!" she yelled, writhing against the officers.

[Let me at him, I'll kill him! That monster killed Aiden!]

Don's arms slithered around her torso, keeping her against him.

"Let the jury and the DA take care of this," he muttered in her ear. She lashed against him and his arms constricted tighter.

"Hey, hey, whoa. This is one case we don't want to get thrown out." Slowly, the fury ebbed until she was able to get a hold of herself. Hot tears of grief spilled down her cheeks and a sob caught in her throat.

"She's really dead, Don," she whispered. He turned her around and she sobbed out her grief and sorrows into his shirt. Don's hand rubbed her back soothingly as he murmured words of comfort into her ear.

"Are you going to the toast tonight?" he asked. She wiped her eyes, sniffling.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied. His lips touched her forehead. There was nothing romantic about the gesture, she knew. Only comfort.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home," he offered. Isabella nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks," she told him.

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung behind her bedroom door, staring at her reflection. God, things had gotten so messed up. Little by little, things were being snatched from her cruelly. First, with her parents' divorce. That had been just the beginning. After the divorce, she had been forced to live with her mother, Levi, Ian, and her aunt, plus her two cousins. Kieran and Kellan had made her life a living hell.<p>

After a while, Levi had moved out and to DC to live with their father. Isabella had lost her father and her brother. After she had moved to New York, Levi had transferred to Wilmington to win back his high school love. That left her with the job and the few alliances she had made with it. Now, Aiden was dead.

All that seemed to be staring back at her was a petite, dark-haired woman wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She didn't feel like Isabella. She felt like a hollow shell.

She knew grief did that to people, but now she had a choice: wallow or move forward. To do what was expected of her and move on, or defy every single thing she knew.

It was a choice of contradictory sorts. It was so easy, yet so difficult. Now, she had no reason to resent Lindsay Monroe. Damn, she could have a wild girlish fling and try to actually make friends with the girl, or at least be civil.

She pulled on her red hoodie, shoving her feet into a pair of black boots. Now, to toast her fallen comrade.

"See? This is no lie. She, Aiden, gets on my face, right? You know she did that, and she tells me: Keep dreaming, Messer. I think you're cute, but I'm way out of your league," Danny was saying, taking a sip of his beer. Isabella slid onto the chair next to him and shook her head.

"I think the best moment was when she slapped you with that riding crop," she commented. No drinking tonight. If she did, she wouldn't be able to stop till she met the floor.

"Or that time when Thacker wouldn't leave you two alone, so you pretended to be girlfriends," he replied, a wicked gleam in his eye. Isabella rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm up until Levi ruined it," she said. A twinge of sadness echoed in her heart as she thought of her older brother.

"How is that brother of yours, anyways?" Stella asked. Isabella forced a smile onto her face as she shrugged.

"You know, killing the ladies everywhere he goes. Stunning the opposite sex with the killer Pacino smile," she joked lightly. She tightened her ponytail, crossing her legs.

"What do you want to drink tonight? We need to toast Aiden," Hawkes asked her. Isabella shrugged.

"Something non-alcoholic," she replied, fidgeting with the chipped pearl blue polish on her fingers. A silence fell over the table and she looked up.

"What? I just don't want to drink tonight, it's my choice." She was finally handed a Shirley Temple and she curled her lip. Damn, the thirst for something strong enough to cause her blood to boil was nearly overwhelming.

"Aiden Burn was one of those people who had your back no matter what. She will be missed and know that her sacrifice wasn't in vain," Isabella said, raising her glass high.

"To Aiden," everyone murmured.


	25. The Big Bang

**_A/N: Now...for the episode I've been dying to write 8DDD Wilmington always has some sort of event going on there, I loved going to those festivals as a young kid..._**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Hey, no worries, I'm plenty jealous of Isabella myself xD And Levi's not married yet...he's currently trying to win the woman over...and I was so upset that Aiden was dead...of course, when I first started watching CSI:NY, it was last year while TNT aired the second season and I was like: 0.o Oh, that sucks...who's Aiden? But now that I know who she is, I'm like DDDDDD: YOU BASTARDS_**

* * *

><p><em>I'm on the front line, don't worry I'll be fine<em>

_The story's just beginning_

_I say goodbye to my weakness, so long to the regrets_

_And now I see the world through diamond eyes_

Shinedown — Diamond Eyes

* * *

><p>Isabella walked down the street alongside Don and Lindsay as she took in the scene of the block party.<p>

"It's quite a shindig, isn't it?" Lindsay commented. Isabella shrugged.

"Sunday block parties. Springtime in New York City," Don replied.

"Right in the middle of the streets, huh?" Lindsay said, tilting her head. Isabella fought a retort and merely chuckled.

"Where do they have 'em in Montana?" she asked. Lindsay turned and gave her a smile.

"Wyoming," she replied. Despite herself, a peal of laughter escaped her throat.

"Back home, we had festivals out the wazoo. I swear, when I was a uni, I was at the scene of more festivals than crime scenes," she replied. She allowed a nostalgic smirk cross her features as she and Lindsay set their kits inside the stairwell. After photographing a few snapshots, Lindsay set her kit down.

"Hey, I've gotta grab something out of the Avalanche, I'll be back in a few minutes," she said. Isabella nodded to her before setting her camera back into her case.

"We've got a blood trail," Mac commented, flicking on his flashlight. Isabella tilted her head and walked up the steps to follow Mac and Don. After they walked into a hallway, she glanced around the floor of the building. It had florescent lighting, pale white walls, and reminded her of a real estate agent's office. Light oak doors dotted the foyer as the detectives made their way down.

"It's quiet in here," she commented. Don let out a chuckle.

"This place is a brokerage firm. No work on Sundays," he informed her. Mac let out a chuckle.

"Must be nice, huh?" Isabella let out a scoff.

"Lucky bastards," she muttered, watching as Don and Mac set the ladder upright. Her eyes wandered upwards to the moved ceiling tile and tilted her head as Mac climbed the ladder.

"What do we have?" she called. Her hands slid into her back pockets and she rocked back on her heels. Quickly, Mac ran back down the ladders.

"You two get everyone out of here, there's a bomb up there," he commanded, his tone harsh and full of what Isabella called his 'Alpha' commands. Immediately, Isabella sprinted down the hall, banging on doors as she left. Of course, Don had to think clearly and pulled the fire alarm. Mac was already on the phone with Lindsay, telling her to get people away from the building.

"What's going on?" someone asked. Isabella's head turned to face him.

"NYPD, exit this building now!" she commanded, pointing down the hall. The sound of a cellphone ringing was heard. Then something sounding like an explosion followed soon afterwards.

* * *

><p>Something was holding her down as she let out a cough. Electricity crackled above her as she tried to lift her head.<p>

"Mac?" she called feebly. She slowly moved her fingers and toes through her sneakers as she tried to move whatever was holding her down. Upon closer inspection, she realized she was between a water cooler and a filing cabinet. Isabella shoved the filing cabinet away, the water from the cooler drenching her from head to toe. Considering the alternative, she would take it.

"Isabella?" she heard Mac call. Isabella coughed again as she staggered to her feet. There was a stabbing pain in her knee and in her shoulder as she held onto a beam for support. Gritting her teeth as she limped towards him, she let out a wheeze.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. She nodded as she tried to stand upright.

"No lasting damage," she replied. Despite the throbbing pain in her knee, the ringing in her ears, and the fact that her shoulder was definitely dislocated, she was sound.

"Where's Flack?" she asked. She limped towards where she had last seen him, trying to move debris with her good foot. Isabella nearly cried out as she leaned onto her bad knee.

"He's over here, Isabella!" Mac called. Isabella staggered over to him, trying to move a copy machine off of his torso. A gaping hole was in him, blood trickling out of an artery. She swore under her breath as she saw Mac staring down at him, squirting water onto his hands.

"Clean up," he ordered her, tossing her a water bottle. Quickly, she squirted the water onto her hands and tossed the bottle onto the ground. Fire crackled behind her, she could hear it.

"Will the building hold?" she asked, feeling stupid for asking. Mac shook his head.

"As long as the oxygen holds and there isn't an aftershock," he replied. His eyes dropped to her feet as he held out his hand. "Give me your shoelace."

Confused, she did as he asked. His hands clamped down onto the artery.

"Put your hands where my hands are," he instructed. Feeling a little grossed out, she obeyed.

"How do you know so much about this?" she asked. He glanced at her as he tied the shoelace onto the artery.

"I've lived through this moment before," he replied. He shook his head as he turned his attention back onto Don.

* * *

><p>Armando Pacino Sr walked onto the scene with his team from DHS.<p>

"I want to speak to the head detective on this case," he said, his tone full of authority. He clenched his fists as he looked about the scene and his eyes settled on a tall Greek woman.

"That's me, I'm Detective Bonasera," she informed him, holding out a hand. Briskly, Armando shook it.

"I'm Agent Armando Pacino," he replied. "Any casualties?" Detective Bonasera's eyes gazed towards the shambled building.

"There's three NYPD officers in there, plus eight civilians," she replied. He let out a swear under his breath as he shook his head. Maybe Isabella would know what was going on.

"Is Detective Pacino assigned to this case?" he asked sharply, frowning in concern. Isabella was his only daughter, there would be no way he was going to let her get injured in any way.

"We believe she's one of the NYPD officers inside," Detective Bonasera replied quietly. Rage welled within Armando as he narrowed his eyes at the building.

"Are Search and Rescue in there now?" he demanded, the rage quickly transforming into panic. Panic that his daughter might be injured, or...

He couldn't even bring himself to think of the alternative.

"Yes, we're currently trying to locate survivors," Detective Bonasera answered.

"Pacino, you're off the case," he heard his superior inform him.

"The hell I am. That's my daughter in there, that's my baby girl!" he snarled at the younger African-American woman. God, if Isabella were to die...

Too many thoughts raced in his head as he remained frozen on the blacktop.

"Sir, we're doing everything we can to get everyone out," Detective Bonasera told him, her voice breaking through his thoughts. Her eyes softened as she continued.

"Your daughter's hell on wheels, she'll pull through."


	26. The Ugly Truth

**_A/N: 8D I love writing this part...and I've finally got a day off tomorrow, so keep your peepers out for speedy updates periodically throughout the day!_**

**_Kaycee-x John Cenaholic: I know, I loved her too! She was so spunky. I like Lindsay, she's really had to grow on me. I didn't really like her at first, but I like her now. Thank you, by the way! I've worked really hard to keep Isabella multi-dimensional...she's almost real to me now!_**

**_bel canto bueno: My heart bled for Flack too! You didn't miss anything, I just wanted to do a little flash-forward to that part. I thought I should play up a little bit more of Don and Isabella before they FINALLY get together. _**

* * *

><p><em>Show me a reason, give me a sign<em>

_Tell me the way we fall out of line_

_Is it today or is it tonight _

_We'll find the answer to our life?_

Backstreet Boys — Answer To Our Life

* * *

><p>After Isabella had banged around the walls, gritting her teeth against the intense pain, a flashlight beam caught her eye.<p>

"We're in here!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, trying desperately to be heard. Her voice cracked and she coughed.

"Isabella!" she heard Danny yell.

"Danny!" she called back, leaning off of her bad knee.

"Hang in there, shorty, help is on the way!" Danny shouted. She nearly let out a whoop of delight as she heard them scrabble through the debris. It was her answered prayer as she was lifted into someone's arms.

"Are you okay?" It was Danny's voice in her ear as she was carried out of the building.

"My shoulder and my knee are killing me, my ears are ringing, but I'm sound," she replied. As fresh air greeted her lungs, she took a greedy lungful. Shouts of her father's Italian accent reached her ears as she heard him command for everyone to move out of the way.

"Honeybee, are you alright?" he murmured as he held onto her hand. Danny lowered her onto a gurney, stepping backwards.

"I'm fine, Daddy. Just try not to move my shoulder," she rasped. He chuckled and helped hoist her into the ambulance.

"I've got you, baby. Daddy always has you," Armando swore. She looked up tiredly at her father, her eyelids weighing heavily on her.

"I know," she whispered.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling?" Sam asked her, holding her left hand at her bedside. Her right knee had been twisted, but now she was fine. As she had originally suspected, she had dislocated her right shoulder when she had collided with various items after being caught in the blast.<p>

"I'm feeling absolutely no pain right now because of these painkillers, which is good," Isabella replied, running her thumb over his knuckles. His green eyes met her blues, glazed over with concern and worry. Currently, her right arm was in a sling over her flat stomach and her knee was slung upwards from her bed. Frowning, she shifted to get comfortable. Sam didn't want to be there, she could sense it. She could see it in his eyes as they roved over the IV, over the monitors. Over her knee brace and sling.

"How's Don?" she asked. She didn't miss the flash of jealousy in Sam's eyes as he hesitated to answer.

"He's in surgery right now, they'll let us know more when he gets out," he replied. She also didn't miss the bitterness in his voice. Isabella's eyes turned towards the door, where a middle-aged man stood. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. Why did he look so familiar to her?

It came to her. It was Donald Flack Sr.

"Are you Isabella?" he asked. He had a thick Queens accent, much like his son. Isabella nodded.

"Isabella Pacino," she replied, shifting to sit up easier. Sam stood up, seemingly relieved to have an excuse to leave. Donald's eyes seemed to tighten at the mention of her surname.

"So, you're Armando Pacino's daughter," he commented. He held out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Don Flack Sr."

Isabella smiled as she clasped his hand in hers in a firm handshake. "It's very nice to meet you," she said.

"Word on the street is that you work with my boy," Donald said. He liked to get right to the point. Isabella respected that.

"Yes, I do," she replied, unease growing in her belly. Something told her that she wouldn't like where he was going with this.

"My wife is on her way and I thought it would be fair to warn you that she is very emotional right now. And when she gets emotional, she wants someone to blame," he said. Isabella bit her lip as she let him speak.

"And she wants to blame me for this, doesn't she," she stated. Slowly, Donald nodded.

"She's very hot-tempered," he explained. Isabella let out a soft chuckle, trying not to rattle herself.

"I did my best to help Don, maybe that'll warm me up to her a little," she offered. She turned towards the door, her father's booming Italian accent echoing through the halls. Now that she was more coherent, she could feel properly excited to see her beloved father.

"How's my girl?" Armando asked, standing in the doorway. His mocha-brown eyes settled on Donald and he drew himself to his full six foot four height.

"The hell are you doing here, Flack?" he growled. The other man narrowed his eyes and standing up.

"Came to thank this young lady properly for saving my son," he replied. Isabella felt uneasy as she shrank into the bed. Hostility crackled between the two men like a live-wire as they glared each other down.

"Say your thanks and get the hell out," Armando snapped.

"Daddy! Be nice," Isabella scolded with a frown. Her father nodded curtly to her before setting his jaw. A clear indication that he was done talking and brute force was about to be ignited. "Daddy, I mean it."

"Wait," Donald said, his eyes settling on her. Recognition and understanding seemed to glow in his frost-blue eyes as he surveyed her.

"Little Izzy Rae's all grown up." Isabella tilted her head and looked up at her father for explanation. One was in order, that was for sure.

"Where's my daughter? I _demand_ that an effort is to be made to locate her, I will not stand for this!" a woman's shrill Irish accent echoed in the halls. Isabella glared accusingly at her father.

"Daddy, what the hell is Mama doing here?" she demanded. Armando's eyes flashed from fury and rage to apologetic.

"She needed to know, honeybee," he replied. Isabella let out a groan as Marnie O'Malley stood in the doorway. People had always thought Marnie as her older sister, the two women looked so alike. And thanks to Marnie's stellar Irish genes, the petite woman didn't look old enough to be the mother of three children, let alone a woman in her early fifties. Her deep copper-red hair was pulled back into a graceful dancer's bun, locks of hair framing her young-looking face. Big flame-blue eyes popped out from her bangs, a stunning picture to the porcelain-pale skin that was the frame.

"Marnie O'Malley," Donald addressed her. A big smile lit up her mother's face as she shook Donald's hand.

"Donnie, you haven't changed a bit," she cooed. Isabella cleared her throat and her mother's gaze met hers.

"Isabella Rae!" she breathed, practically floating over to her. Isabella had always been in awe of her mother, from her glorious red hair to the way she practically seemed to float when she walked. Her mother peppered her face with kisses as she murmured to her in Gaelic.

"My precious girl, you've gotten hurt!" Isabella had to let out a laugh as Marnie cupped her daughter's face in her hands.

"I'm fine, Mama. See? I'm safe. It's a miracle that this is all I was able to get out of there with," she told her. Marnie stroked Isabella's raven hair, remaining on her left side.

"Don't you worry, grá, I will see to it that you are very well taken care of," she said. Her mother had never been this fiercely protective of her in her life ever. Not even when Isabella had been kicked in the abdomen by a horse and had nearly died. Had Aunt Rose left the household and taken her wicked daughters with her? Aunt Rose had caused the divorce between Marnie and Armando. She had deemed the pair "incompatible" and had sought out the demise of the marriage. When the divorce had happened, Rose had played the good sister and had moved in on the Pacino family, taking her twin daughters with her.

"Is Aunt Rose here?" Isabella asked, fearing her mother's next words. Marnie shook her head.

"No, but the girls send their best," she answered. Fighting a disrespectful snort, which would have gotten her smacked over the head, she merely let out an 'oh.' The look in Marnie's eyes told her that she was going to hate her next words.

"Being a cop is so dangerous for you, Isabella. You could have died!" And...there were the words she knew were coming.

"Mama, I didn't die. These types of things rarely happen and I happened to land on something that kept the ceiling from crashing down on me," Isabella argued.

"You should come home, where I can at least keep an eye on you," Marnie offered. Rage welled inside her belly as she glared at her mother.

"Mama, I'm twenty-six years old, I don't need someone _to keep an eye on me_," Isabella spat. Luckily, the dislocation of her shoulder was minor. The damage could have been a lot worse, but she only needed help for a week.

"Isabella, is this job really what you want? Why do you do what you do?" Marnie asked. She had never been the supportive type.

"I do this job because I like knowing I'm making a difference. I can't ignore the longing to help people. I did that in Wilmington, but now I'm putting my college education to work. I'm a forensic scientist, there are people twice my age still trying to make the cut and I'm working my rear off to prove that I'm good enough to be called Detective Pacino, Crime Scene Investigator. It may not be much to you, but it's worth it when I tell the families of victims that the one who killed or raped or robbed their loved ones is put behind bars. A very close friend of mine died for this job, it's not just a full-time gig. It's a _lifetime_ gig, like the military. I'm fortunate to know that my team and the cops I work with have my back." Isabella had launched into a rant, trying not to jar her shoulder. As she spoke the words, she could feel the truth of them resonating in her heart like an internal bass drum. She trusted the CSI team. With everything in her.

"You're just-" Marnie said before Isabella cut her off.

"Just like Daddy and Levi, I know. But you know what? I'm glad I am. They're both fantastic men and they were both legends at the NYPD. If I'm compared to them, that's an honor," she snapped. Painkillers and lack of sleep was making her snappy today. That, and the pure terror of not knowing what was going on with Don. Her eyes flickered to the door, trying to find a member of her team to fill her in. Her father was sitting down and trying not to show the pride in his eyes at his daughter's words.

"It's true. I'm proud of my daddy and my brother."


	27. Now the only one I'm telling is myself

**_A/N: This is gonna be a short chapter, because I just got the idea for it...this is officially my longest-running story 8DDD I've also hit sixty reviews...this never happens 8DDD Thank you all for being with me on this journey...  
><em>**

**_bel canto bueno: Yeahh I love writing moments between Isabella and Armando. She's definitely Daddy's little girl! Marnie is a piece of work, lol, but she comes from a very privileged family, so she doesn't get the whole 'hard work' and being a cop. _**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Well, Marnie just wants Isabella safe. She comes from a very privileged family in Ireland, so she doesn't get the whole cop thing, or why her daughter would rather chase down bad guys in the streets than to be the wife of a wealthy man._**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thank you! I love writing a feisty Isabella and to show a little bit how Marnie is...these two are very passionate people and they were very fun to write!  
><em>**

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><p><em>I should've found a way to tell you how I felt<em>

_Now the only one I'm telling is myself_

Rascal Flatts — Words I Couldn't Say

* * *

><p>Trying to maneuver a wheelchair with one arm was hell. Even worse, trying to sneak out of her room while she was supposed to be sleeping was even worse. Finally, Isabella had asked her favorite nurse, Gretchen to help.<p>

"C'mon, I'll give you five bucks!" she whined. Gretchen Wilkes, a sassy blonde Georgia peach, simply looked down at her.

"Miss Isabella, you're supposed to be sleeping," she informed her.

"No shit, Sherlock. Look, I need to get to ICU," Isabella said.

"Tell me why." Gretchen planted her hands onto her wide-set hips. Isabella let out an exasperated sigh.

"Because, the other detective that got caught in the blast is a very good friend of mine. I just want to see him and see how he's doing," she replied. Gretchen pursed her lips and she nodded.

"You like him," she stated. Isabella opened her mouth to protest, but the older woman held up her hand to silence her.

"Say no more," she replied. Isabella's eyes were pleading as she met other woman's gray eyes.

"Keep your money, sugar, I'll take you to go see him."

* * *

><p>Even after Isabella had explained to her that Sam was her boyfriend and not Don, Gretchen had given her her two cents.<p>

"Sam's a gorgeous guy, but there's no chemistry between you two. He's just eye candy," she commented as they came onto the ICU floor. A male nurse came from behind a workstation to stop them any further.

"Gretchen, you can't be here, this isn't your floor," he informed her. Gretchen glared at the tall man. He was a young African-American, it was probably his first year on the job.

"Now, look here, Sonny. I'm here to take this young lady to see Detective Flack. No one's gonna keep her from seeing him or me from taking her," she declared. Sonny's eyes locked with Isabella.

"Name, please?" he asked.

"Isabella Pacino," she replied. "Detective." He nodded and clapped his hands together.

"Alright, well, your teammates are outside of his room right now," he said, taking the wheelchair from Gretchen. He politely wheeled the chair down the hall.

"How's Don?" Isabella asked. He let out a chuckle.

"He's still asleep, he hasn't woken from the anesthesia yet. That's all I can tell you," he replied. She pouted as they pulled up. It was Danny, Lindsay, Mac, Stella, and Hawkes sitting outside of the room.

"Ooh, look at you, rulebreaker," Danny commented as Sonny backed the chair to the wall.

"You got twenty minutes, rebel," Sonny informed her. Isabella nodded.

"No curfew can hold this whirlwind back," she joked to Danny. She turned her attention to Mac.

"How is he?" Mac glanced at her before letting out a deep breath.

"He's stable, the next twenty-four hours are crucial," he replied.

"We met your mom, by the way," Lindsay spoke up. Isabella let out a groan, leaning her head against the wall.

"I'll bet you were able to hear her screeching at the doctors, too," she replied.

"Don't take your mom for granted, Isabella," Stella informed her. After hearing about Stella's past, Isabella had been sure to never take what she had in her life for granted.

"I know she cares, but I wish she'd let up on what I do," she admitted. Glancing at the watch attached to her left wrist, she waited for the doctor to leave the room.

"Mind if I go first? Sonny's gonna stick to that twenty minutes like glue," she requested. Slowly, Mac and Stella nodded.

"I'm gonna go talk to his neurologist, see when his CAT scan is," Hawkes said. Danny glanced over at Lindsay.

"Still want that ride home, Montana?" he asked. She gave him a gentle smile before hooking her arm in his. Not being able to resist, Isabella gave her friend a snarky smile.

"Hey, Messer!" she said, getting his attention. She gave him a wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

In the dimly lit hallway, she could see the tips of his ears turn red and she muffled a giggle. ICU was always a morbid place, with its narrow hallways, its stench of antiseptic, its cold white tile floors, and silver doors.

"I'll get the coffee," Stella announced. Isabella turned to Mac.

"Mind helping me in there? I suck at this whole wheelchair thing," she said. The older man chuckled and stood up with a grunt.

"Sure thing," he agreed and wheeled the chair into the room. Don lay on a bed, tubes attached to his bare torso, and was heartbreaking to see someone that she had grown accustomed to seeing every day in a situation like this. How easily he could have lost his life, how fragile this man really was. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked down at him. Instinctively, the hand on her good arm curled around his. The tears trickled down her cheeks as she looked down at him, his limp touch oddly comforting to her. He looked almost childlike as he laid there.

"Hey, Don, it's me," she said softly. If he could hear her, he made no signs of it. Letting out a sniffle, she continued.

"I hope you get better real soon. I just sneaked out of my room to come and see you. Not really sure what wing it is, those ass clown doctors don't tell me much." Still nothing.

Isabella took a deep shaky breath as her vision became more blurry with those tears. Her contacts were burning now, but she didn't care.

"How the hell did we end up like this?" she muttered, as she wiped her tears onto the shoulder of her hospital gown. She gritted her teeth as her right shoulder was jarred, but she didn't let go of his hand. Something just glued her to him.

"I'm not much of a talker about the serious stuff, but you already know that," she said gently. Her entire life, she had been raised to keep things in and stuff it down. It wasn't healthy, but she had learned to deal. To talk about serious matters was something she had hardly done in her life.

"I just hate that it comes down to this...you and I have this sort of buffer and we never really had a chance to explore that. The one time we tried, life got in the way with the shooting..." she trailed off, clearing her throat at the end. God, she wished her shoulder wasn't messed up right now.

"My entire life has been about pretense, about keeping up an image given to me and I'm sick of it. It's stupid that we've let it get this far, but I just want to say that I'm attracted to you. It's not love yet, but it could be. It's like every time I'm around you, I don't feel like who I was when I was growing up. I don't feel like that intellectual nerd that no one wanted to be around, I just feel like me. I love knowing that I could have a really, really shitty day and just being around you makes it better," she finally admitted. She looked up and saw Sonny in the doorway. Her twenty minutes were up.

"Give me five more minutes?" she asked, her voice small. She knew that her pleading puppy-dog eyes worked, because he held up his five fingers before walking away.

"If you can hear me, can you squeeze my hand?" she asked. A tear dropped from her eye onto his unresponsive hand as she searched his face for any kind of life besides monitors and the morbid, uneasy sound of the heart monitor as little waves indicated his heartbeats. Recording them.

"I know you can," she continued. Could he really not hear her? "Seriously, Don? I pour my heart out to you of all people, for the first time in my life and you can't even squeeze my damn hand so I know you're okay?"

Of course, indignation had never gotten her far in life, but one could only hope...

She tried to shift her injured shoulder and tried to pull her hand away. After a panicky moment, she realized. He was holding onto her as she was holding onto him.


	28. How Did I Fall In Love With You?

**_A/N: 8D I love my reviewers. You guys seriously don't know how much you rock both my proverbial and literal socks...I will not be updating this story tomorrow or probably the next day because my next two days will be jam-packed. Tomorrow, I gotta babysit for my sister and then I have to stay the night over there. (My brother in law doesn't let me use the computer T-T) The next day, I have to babysit half a day, and my brother is picking me up for our weekly coffeehouse trip, where we play pool until ungodly hours come. So, Saturday, I will be posting an update, if I have time. That's a stretch, keep in mind. However, I will have my phone on me and will be able to respond to private messages and read stories and such. So, please be troopers through all of this, I'm really counting on y'all! D: _**

**_CelticCrossings: Hey, welcome back lol. I'm happy you love this story, I really love to write it. I'm a full supporter of your love xD_**

**_bel canto bueno: Not to sound arrogant or cocky or anything, but I love them, too! 8D I read back on it and I'm like: AWWWW 8DDD I DID THAT SO WELL_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: I loved writing that part, my heart bled for Izzy. She's like: Get better soon 8D by the way, I have a monster crush on you so you'd better buck up and wake up. Ha ha, I'll let you have Sam once Isabella breaks the news that she's just not that into him xD_**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne KTBSA: Thank you! I always welcome new reviewers with open arms! C: I hope you continue to enjoy this. As for your newest review, thank you so much! You have no idea how much that made my day! 8D I saw your profile and I'm a big BSB fan myself!_**

* * *

><p><em>Remember when we never needed each other?<em>

_The best of friends like sister and brother_

_We understood; we'd never be alone_

_Those days are gone, now I want you so much_

_The night is long and I need your touch_

_Don't know what to say, never meant to feel this way_

_Don't wanna be alone tonight_

Backstreet Boys — How Did I Fall In Love With You?

* * *

><p>Don had wrestled internally with things for what seemed like an eternity. It was odd, he knew voices and he knew the faces that went with them. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced over to see Isabella's head on her arm, her left hand in his. Her right arm was encased in a sling and she was perched in a wheelchair. Most likely, the poor woman hadn't slept in a long time. Wait...<p>

Why was Isabella in a wheelchair and a sling? What the hell had happened after the explosion? Looking down at his chest, he saw a hospital gown in the place of his suit.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked aloud. Immediately, Isabella bolted upright and let out a shriek as her shoulder was jarred. Her blue-flame eyes were glazed with sleep as she rubbed her eyes with her good hand.

"Ah man, I fell asleep, didn't I?" she mumbled. Without makeup, she looked almost childlike. She frowned and fumbled around for something with her good hand. Don realized she was missing her glasses.

"What happened to you?" he asked her, frowning with concern. It clearly took Isabella a moment to recollect what he was talking about.

"You, Mac, and me got caught in an explosion. Turns out, it was someone my father worked with," she replied, arching her back to stretch.

"I know what happened to me, what happened to you?" he prompted.

"I dislocated my shoulder and banged up my knee pretty good. It's a miracle that I didn't break any ribs or hurt my spine," she responded, turning her head to yawn. She resembled a petite, yet life-sized porcelain doll with her big blue eyes, her long, thick eyelashes, her small frame.

"I don't remember getting out of the building," he said. His eyes dropped to her legs, where her right knee was encased in a brace. How badly was Mac injured?

"Danny and some of the agents from DHS got us out," she replied. A shy smile flickered across her lips as their gazes locked. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Hey, same to you," he replied. Had he been dreaming when she said she was attracted to him? It sounded like her...

"How's Sam?" he asked. Her lips puckered as if someone had shoved a lemon wedge in her mouth.

"He's fine," she replied briskly. She glanced away and he watched as her tongue snaked out of her mouth to run itself over her lower lip. Something that had always drove him crazy. Something seemed to be bothering her.

"Did you know our dads used to work together?" she asked out of nowhere. Don frowned. Interesting.

"Really," he said. She nodded, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Yep, they did. Your dad stopped by my room after I woke up and I guess our daddies aren't on good terms," she replied. That was even more interesting. The sight of his mother knocking on his door caught his eye. Kyra Flack was a force to be reckoned with and Isabella wasn't ready to be exposed to her.

"I heard you were awake," Kyra said crisply. Don nodded. Isabella looked up and gave her a bright smile. Something she usually had in her arsenal for first impressions.

"Mom, this is Isabella, she's one of the detectives I work with," he said, nodding to Isabella. Kyra nodded to Isabella, indicating that she acknowledged her.

"Yes, the Pacino sister," Kyra replied. She was a tall, thin brunette woman with stunning gray eyes. She embraced the best of Southern Irish roots and never let people forget it.

"I guess you've heard of me," Isabella said, chuckling at the end. This wasn't going well. Kyra was bound to say something that would piss Isabella off and an argument would ensue. Isabella wasn't exactly known for her mild temper.

"Yes, you've been brought up a few times," Kyra replied. Don knew his mother most likely needed someone to blame for his getting hurt and it seemed as though she decided to blame Isabella. Smoothing out her hair, Kyra finally stepped over to extend a hand.

"I'm Kyra. Kyra Flack," she said grandly, extending a hand. Isabella shook it with her good hand.

"Nice to meet you," she replied. It was easy to see that his mother was going to warm up to the younger woman. It was hard not to. No matter how much Don had tried to be rude and ignore Isabella Pacino, she had wormed her way into his heart.

* * *

><p>As it had turned out, Marnie and Kyra had decided to take up shop in their children's apartments. As it also had turned out, Marnie and Kyra had known each other back home in Ireland, which was the most interesting piece of information of all.<p>

"Think you'll be able to live with your mother doting on you hand and foot?" Don asked her as he helped her wheelchair down the hall. She smiled up at him.

"Think you'll be able to live with your mother trying to get you to do things for yourself?" she countered. He ruffled her hair playfully and she slapped his hand away with her good hand.

"Hey, your mother will probably eat all the leftovers. I'm probably going to starve," he said. Isabella let out a giggle as she tried to stand up. It wasn't an easy feat with a bum knee and a dislocated shoulder that needed to be in a sling for the next few days. Why was it that every time she was with him, it felt like they were the only people in the world?

"Your mother will probably make you food, Flack. It's not like I'm abandoning you for good, just three measly little days," she told him, her voice dropping to a teasing, patronizing coo, as if she were speaking to a petulant toddler. It had become second nature to drop leftovers at his apartment. She had done it for Levi and Don when her brother had lived in the apartment, but now she had done it for Don.

"Yeah, but my mom's cooking sucks," he muttered into her ear. He held onto her hand to keep her onto her feet. His strong arm encircled her waist as he eased her weight off of her bum leg.

"Thanks," she said, feeling her face warm with his face so close to hers. Her arm was around his broad shoulders as she tried to fumble for her keys to her apartment. Instead, she wound up falling forward and catching her foot on the wheel of her chair. Before her face smashed against the wall, she felt his hand on her arm, setting her onto her feet.

"Klutz," he teased as he took the key from her hand. He slid it into the locks and turned the knob. "There you go."

She gave him a thankful smile as she tried to hobble into her apartment.

"Do you need help?" he asked her. Isabella bit her lip in hesitation.

"I don't want you to strain yourself," she said, blinking up at him. He let out a chuckle as he slung her duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Your stuff isn't heavy," he assured her as he wheeled her chair into the apartment. Isabella tried to hop towards the couch, her movement restricted by the brace.

"Thanks," she said softly as the couch met the back of her knees and she sat down. It was going to be a long three days...

* * *

><p>Don watched her sit down on the couch and her eyes met his.<p>

"Wanna sit down? Our moms are probably still arguing at the hospital," she offered. He chuckled.

"You sound like you're gonna jump me," he commented. A peal of laughter overtook her as she shook her head.

"Moment-killer," she teased. "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't see it coming. I'm not exactly at my speediest right now." He sat down next to her, trying to get comfortable at the pull of his stitches. The weight of the explosion still weighed heavily on him and he could feel anxiety and fear as his key emotions.

Isabella flicked on TV as Happy Days had started its round. He let out a chuckle.

"Hey, look, it's your show," he said, glancing over at her. She snorted and her eyes rolled skywards.

"You're lucky you're not Levi. I could put on High School Musical," she replied, looking up to meet his eyes. How the hell _had_ they ended up like this?

"You know, I heard you that night in the hospital," he said quietly. Isabella stiffened beside him, her eyes wide.

"You did?" she asked hoarsely. He nodded slowly.

"Sam's a lucky guy," he said. She bit her lip, her slightly crooked teeth coming into view.

"Yeah, he tells me he's a lucky guy all the time," she replied, her voice a soft murmur.

"You and I never had a chance to ever explore what might have been," he said. It was his way of expressing jealousy. He knew Isabella wasn't one to discuss deep matters. Neither was Levi. It had been hell trying to get either one to talk about their family. All he even knew was that their parents had divorced when Isabella and Ian were young and they had moved to North Carolina from New York.

"I know," she replied. His hand sought out her good hand as it curled around it.

"Do you love Sam?" he asked, facing her. She shook her head.

"We've been together for sixteen months and...I dunno, I guess I wanted someone to help me through the shooting. You weren't exactly available to talk to at that time and I turned to Sam. He was there, he listened, and he helped me," she replied.

"And now?" he prompted. He was trying to draw her words out. Get her to use them.

"I don't know," she confessed.


	29. A Wind Of Understanding

**_A/N: I'M BACK WITH A VENGEANCE 8DD Now is the time to update this story...I have been chomping at the bit for a chance to write, but alas, I have not...thank you for your patience, my dears! Special thank you to Mrs Nick Byrne for keeping me company with her private messages! You rock my socks, girlie! *Less than three* I wanted to sort of include Danny in this chapter, because the story's basically been 'Flacino'-centric. _**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne- KTBSPA: Ha ha, all in good time, my friend! Happy I can make you feel so much with my writing! When I write people calling her shorty, I think of rap or hip-hop songs for some reason. Idek...but I love the Backstreet Boys...they're just awesome! xD_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: XDDD Nice. Yeah, Sam will have other people to help him through this difficult time...I wish you two a happy life together!_**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thank you xD All in good time, my friend!_**

**_bel canto bueno: Glad you like it, thanks for the review_**

**_Shu of the Wind: Thank you for your enthusiasm ;D Glad you like it! Isabella is very much a scholar, so she had gotten herself into her studies at a young age. (My friend did this, so I wanted to sort of use it!) She graduated high school at fifteen and graduated college at nineteen. It may sound a little unrealistic, but I've known people that this has happened to, so I wanted to give it a shot! It involves a lot of extracurricular activities, AP and a GPA of 4.0 to get enough credits._**

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><p><em>As we go on, we remember<em>

_All the times we've had together_

_And as our lives change, come whatever_

_We will still be friends forever_

Vitamin C — Friends Forever (Or the Graduation song...I prefer 'Friends Forever')

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><p>Why was it hell to do anything now? Trying to sleep was hell, moving her shoulder was hell, bending her knee was hell, and so on. On the short and simple, Isabella Rae Pacino was a <em>very<em> crabby woman. It had come to a point where her shoulder could be removed from the sling and move about as it pleased, which was a very good thing. It meant that Marnie, Isabella's mother, had no further purpose. Every single day, it had come down to a battle of wills. Isabella was used to being independent. Relying on someone who had taken care of her so much in the past was a humbling experience, to say the least. The majority of a conversation consisted of talk of marriage.

"Oh, he's a good-looking guy, you should-" Marnie would say.

"No, Mama, I told you, I'm not marrying Mac," Isabella would quickly reply.

"Well, what about-"

"No, I'm not marrying Hawkes either."

"But he's-"

"No, Mama!"

"At this rate you're gonna end up as-"

"An old maid, I know." The conversation would then turn into a lecture about how young women her age in Ireland would be married with lots of children.

"Let's see, seven o'clock in the morning, what do I do today?" Isabella muttered. Her mother had fussed over her endlessly. So far, Isabella now had enough pairs of shorts to satisfy the long summer months, and then some. Marnie had bought the shorts to make it easier on her daughter to get dressed in the morning, but they were shorts Daisy Duke would be proud of. She should make an effort to see more people outside of work. Who hadn't she seen outside of work in a while? A lot of people, that was for sure. But who hadn't she seen lately?

Stella had stopped by yesterday. Mac had stopped by the day she came home from the hospital...

Hawkes stopped by after Stella left to check on her. Even Lindsay had stopped by with magazines. It was spooky how alike Lindsay and Isabella really were. Without asking if Isabella liked that particular magazine, Lindsay Monroe had brought over 'Horse Fancy.'

That only left Danny.

"Ah, what the hell." She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed, fumbling for her crutches. After trying to play hopscotch around her apartment, she had nearly broken every fragile thing, as well as a few bones in the process, she had finally succumbed to the idea of crutches. Tucking them under her arms and holding onto the handles, Isabella leaned off of her bum knee and stepped them forward, swinging her foot. Of course, they didn't make crutches for petite adults, so Isabella was stuck using children's crutches. Oh, what fun that was...

Her dark hair hung in her eyes as she tossed her head to move it out of her way to creep as silently as she could through her apartment. The suppressed teenager in her caused a giggle to erupt from her. In all actuality, walking with crutches was fun, like when she was younger and her parents would hold her hands and lift her up over mud puddles as they walked, so her favorite froggy rainboots didn't get dirty. It was too early to call Danny now, so Isabella laid down on her couch, putting her bum knee up over the back. Her good leg hung over the side of the couch as her head rested on a pillow. It was as if she could no longer sleep in. For so many nights, she had barely slept. It took a whole hour for hunger to snarl in her belly, but it was one of those times when she had gotten so comfortable on the couch that to move would throw her out of whack.

Fate had a different idea, because it wasn't long until there was a knock on her door. Isabella let out a frustrated growl and sat up, fumbling for her crutches. Humming Ah-Ha's 'Take on Me', she swung her way over to the door.

"I'll be gone in a day or two," she murmured, her voice straining like a howling dog for the word 'two.' Stretching onto her left foot, she glanced through the peephole. Danny Messer stood on the other side, raking his hand through his messy hair. Isabella stepped back to open the door.

"G'mornin', Danny," she greeted him, inviting him in with a wave of her hand. Currently, her mother was asleep in the guest room and probably would for another hour.

"Didn't know if you'd be awake, I thought I'd come over and see ya," he said. Isabella shrugged as she swung her way into the kitchen.

"You hungry? I was contemplating getting up and getting food, but you had made the decision for me," she offered.

"Nah, I stopped by my parents' house and they fed me," he replied. She smiled as she leaned onto her good leg to swipe her crutch over the top of the refrigerator to knock down a box of Cocoa Puffs.

"So, how are you feelin' with your leg?" Danny asked, leaning against the counter. Isabella opened her refrigerator and pulled out her gallon of milk.

"It's pretty stiff today, with the rain that's been going on and whatnot. Otherwise, it's pretty good," she replied. It was a good thing she had finally gotten better at putting on pants with her leg, otherwise she would be wearing a pair of those damn shorts and a tank top, rather than her academy sweatpants and her favorite Aerosmith T-shirt. The trauma from the blast still haunted her worst as she realized she had become what she had feared most in her life: out of control.

Mac had suggested the trauma counselor, to help her deal. He had seen her himself and said she had helped. Isabella had always shied away from counselors. She would go to talk to them about one specific thing, and her past was always brought up. She had lived a very eventful life, full of lies, deceit, and betrayal, and it was something she didn't want to talk to anyone about. Aiden had been the only person she had opened up about it to and the Brooklyn native had taken her secrets to the grave. A twinge of pain echoed in Isabella's heart as she thought about her best friend.

"How are you?" she asked, meeting his blue eyes with her own. She was trying to get him to open up to her, her spoon dangling from her hand as she studied her friend. Danny and her were similar in many ways, from their half-Italian blood, down to their blue eyes. Isabella enjoyed their friendship. They didn't have to talk every day to keep up with the other and very little words sufficed to know what the other meant.

"Saw that grief counselor finally," he replied, taking off his glasses to clean them on his white T-shirt.

"I should give him a call. Stella's been riding me on it," Isabella said, taking another bite of her chocolaty cereal.

"It helped some. Now, the counselor wants to talk to me about the Tanglewood Boys and Louie," Danny replied, his voice dropping an octave with bitterness. He had been having a tough time since finding out there was no change with his brother, Louie.

"That's why I don't want to talk to them. They go off-topic and we wind up talking about how messed up my family is," Isabella said, setting her bowl in the sink.

"Yours too?" Danny said, his voice twinged with bitter amusement. She chuckled as she rinsed out her dish.

"Hey, everyone's family is messed up somehow," she pointed out, grinning over her shoulder at him. He nodded.

"Yeah, everyone's got their own scale too," he returned. It was odd how in-tune she and Danny were. She knew that his statement had a double meaning.

"Alright, I tell you one, you tell me one," she offered. He ruffled her long hair as she dried her hands on a red hand-towel. Isabella swatted his hand away as she leaned against the counter. Her mouth twisted in thought as she thought of the safest thing to say.

"My dad was supposed to be the head of Shadow's Blade."

"I was supposed to jump into the Tanglewood Boys," Danny said. Isabella crossed her arms over her torso as she lowered her gaze in thought. Randomly, she examined the pink and white tile on her floor.

"I lived in Ireland after graduating high school to attend college and learn other things," she said quietly, hoping he wouldn't catch onto the hint.

"My dad was never around," Danny's voice grew quiet and painful.

"My aunt wrecked my parents' marriage and drove us out of New York," Isabella replied. He tilted his head as he craned his neck to survey her.

"You used to live in New York?" he asked. Isabella shrugged in a blasé manner.

"I was born in Brooklyn, lived there till I was six. After my parents divorced, I moved to Wilmington," she explained. She shook her head and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"You know, you are the only one on the team that gets it," Danny finally sighed. Isabella turned to look at her friend.

"Get what?" she asked.

"The gangs. Making sure your past is never discovered by never talking about it. You throw yourself into your job to take your mind off of how messed up your life is. Making sure no one ever meets your family, trying to make yourself known as yourself, rather than your family or your dad," Danny explained. Yes, a wind of understanding had blown through the apartment, and Isabella Pacino was very glad that Danny had come.


	30. Let It Go

**_A/N: So! No more 'Lady-Buster'. Instead, it is Alice Quarantine! I'm pairing up with my BFF in real life and she is Lydiann Biohazard. We are deadly ;D But thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! You sure know how to make a girl's day!_**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: Yeah, I love writing Isabella and Danny together, they're probably my best platonic couple. They have so much in common, they've sort of become the other's confidante. I feel it was a heart-to-heart, too!_**

**_bel canto bueno: I love Danny period! He's so sweet...and I love the bond that he and Isabella share. They've both got gang-related backgrounds and they have a seemingly silent understanding of the other. _**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: XD Your review made me smile! Let me make Isabella and Sam break it off and you can go to town. Marnie is a very old-fashioned, blunt woman and she sees no reason why Isabella isn't married. It seems as though she has taken the responsibility of finding a husband for her daughter herself! And Messino will always have a special place in my heart.  
><em>**

**_Shu: I love their friendship! It's one of my favorite friendships to write._**

* * *

><p><em>Fade it out into the light<em>

_All these years, we never get it right_

_I need to let it go, I need to let it go, I need to let it go_

_No more reasons to deny that I believed that you were mine_

_I need to let it go, I need to let it go, I need to let it go_

Cavo — Let It Go

* * *

><p>Honestly? It was times like this where Isabella desperately wished she could drink while on medication. Marnie had rearranged everything in Isabella's apartment, which drove Isabella crazy. It had been set up precisely how Isabella had wanted, but her mother had came in and changed everything.<p>

"Isabella?" she heard someone call outside her door. It was Sam. Luckily, her mother was gone for the moment. No embarrassing comments would be made about how many men came to visit Isabella. She invited him in, biting her lip.

"Hey," she greeted him softly. His arms laced around his waist and his lips brushed hers in a gentle kiss.

"I would have come sooner, but I figured you would want time with your mother while she's in town," he explained. Isabella shrugged as he went for another kiss.

"Is this because of the hospital? I did apologize for that." She shook her head and tried not to look him in the eye. Damn, she hated breaking up with people. It always made her feel like the worst person in the world. That she had just crushed someone's happiness into the ground for her own happiness. It made her a martyr, she supposed.

"I know you did, Sam," she sighed. He frowned in concern, his green eyes highlighted by the motion.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Why was she about to chicken out on this? Sam and her just didn't fit anymore. Could she really begrudge her own happiness at the risk of keeping him happy? She knew he loved her; he had voiced it on more than one occasion.

"Sam, I think we should break up," she blurted out. Better than beating around the bush. Sam merely stood dumbfounded in front of her, shock and surprise the dominant expression on his handsome features.

"Are you completely sure about this?" he asked finally. She nodded.

"It's just...we don't seem to fit anymore," she explained. The surprise faded to hurt as he stared at her.

"I always thought I'd lose you to Flack," he said. Isabella ducked her head, looking away. "And you're not even going to offer to be friends with me?"

"I don't make that offer if I don't mean it, Sam. It's adding insult to injury and I couldn't do that to you," she replied.

"Leaving me with my dignity," he surmised. He was taking this surprisingly well, she thought.

"I think later on down the road, we can be friends. I'm not the girl for you, but I envy the girl who is. You were really good to me and I appreciate all you've done," she said. He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

"Flack's a lucky guy," he finally replied before turning to walk away. Isabella felt sadness weighing in her stomach like a cold, sour stone as she closed her door behind him.

* * *

><p>Danny's words echoed in Don's head.<p>

_"Go for it, Flack, she's a good woman. You won't find another one like that if you looked under every rock in America."_

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the sound of an angry knock on the door catching his attention. He stood up and walked over to the door, rubbing his stitched up torso. When he opened the door, he felt a fist smash into his face. Unprepared, Don stumbled backwards and caught the table. His angry eyes settled on Sam Thomas.

"What the hell is your problem, man?" Don demanded, touching his lip. Another fist came flying at his face. Don shoved the shorter man backwards until he collided with the wall outside of Isabella's apartment.

"You stole my girlfriend!" Sam snarled. What the hell? Don shook his head.

"I don't know what you're on or where you get off talkin' to me like that, but you've got it wrong," he informed him.

"Isabella just dumped me and I have a pretty good idea why!" Sam shouted back.

"So, you're gonna blame me because your relationship with your former superior's sister didn't work out?" Don said, feeling his anger ebb. Now he just felt silly for reacting like he had.

"I'm gonna blame you because you've always had a thing for her, Flack. Admit it. You've been trying to get into her pants from day one!"

"I have more respect for her than that, Sam," Don replied, pointing a finger at him in warning. The sound of a door opening caused him to turn his head.

"What the hell are you kids doing? I'm going to call the police!" a petite redhead snarled at them. Her blue eyes flashed as her Irish accent trilled from her words.

"Ma'am, we are the police," Don said, stepping backwards. He could feel stress on his wound and he touched his hand to his side to see if he had popped a stitch. He hadn't.

In his haste to get Sam away from him, he hadn't thought to put on a shirt. His well-toned torso was on display for the world to see as he glared down at Sam Thomas. The redhead pursed her lips as she studied him. His eyes met hers. Why did she look so familiar to him? The woman's hands were planted on her hips, her deep red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She looked almost identical to Isabella, only smaller. The door opened again, revealing the petite body of Isabella.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded as she stepped outside. She stood before him in a pair of form-fitting Daisy Duke shorts and a coral blue tank top, emphasizing her blue-fire eyes as her eyes met his.

"Don?" she prompted. Now he knew who the redhead was. It was Isabella's mother.

"Nothing's going on, Lionheart," he assured her, his other hand releasing Sam's shirt. Her eyes dropped to his lips as she limped closer. His eyes dropped to her leg, encased in the brace.

"You're bleeding," she murmured. Her eyes settled on Sam, blazing.

"What the hell did you do?" she implored. He held up his hands.

"I don't have an excuse for what I did," he admitted. Isabella's hand went to smooth her stray locks behind her ears and she threw them up in the air.

"Un-fucking-believable. I thought you were going to be an adult about this, but clearly, I was mistaken," she snapped at him. Isabella's mother simply stood quietly in the corridor, her face pinched in what seemed like concentration.

"Isabella, who are these two?" she asked finally. Isabella pointed from Don to Sam.

"Don Flack, Sam Thomas," she replied, her hands resting on her hips and muttering something in Italian.

"Now, if your little 'powwow' is done, this is a hallway, not a place to mingle," Isabella's mother said crisply. Her eyes were narrowed in irritation.

"Mama, I'll be in in a moment. Give me a few minutes with these two," Isabella told her mother. After the redhead disappeared back into the apartment, Isabella's gaze narrowed icily.

"You two have ten seconds to tell me what the hell just happened," she growled, her voice tight with anger.

"Sam knocks on my door, I open it and he punches me in the face," Don quickly said.

"Don threw me backwards and I hit the wall," Sam added.

"Because you punched me in the face. You're lucky I didn't do worse," Don snapped. Isabella held up a hand to silence them.

"Sam, why did you punch Don in the face?" she asked, closing her eyes and talking through her teeth. It was easy to see she was trying to hold onto her temper as she took a deep breath.

"Because I blame him for our breakup," Sam finally admitted. Her eyes snapped open as she glared at him.

"He had nothing to do with our breakup," she argued. Whoa, back up a moment. Sam and Isabella split?

"You know what? Nothing I'll ever say will change your mind," Sam spat before storming off down the hall. Don's eyes settled on Isabella. Her eyes were tightly closed, her hands clenched in tight fists as she took deep breaths through her nose.

"Sorry you had to see that," she finally uttered as her body relaxed. Her big blue eyes opened and locked on his. "He hit you pretty good."

Her finger touched his lips tenderly to brush over the cut. Don flinched at the touch of her cool fingers, but her eyes were simply apologetic.

"I've had worse." He shrugged it off. His eyes dropped to the brace again. "Are you alright?"

Her turn to shrug.

"I've survived getting kicked in the abdomen by a horse. Trust me, I can live with a knee brace for a while," she assured him. Her eyes didn't leave his face.

"C'mon inside, I'll take care of that cut," she offered. He shook his head. "It's my fault you got that, it's the least I can do."

* * *

><p>Isabella soaked a washcloth in warm water as she gently dabbed it to Don's lip. He shrank back, shuddering a bit.<p>

"Wow, big and bad Detective Flack is hurt by a little ole bitty washcloth? There's one for the Guiness books," she commented with an amused smile. He chuckled.

"It's no big deal," he tried to assure her. She frowned and looked up at him.

"My ex-boyfriend punched you pretty hard in the face because of me. To me, that's a pretty big deal," she replied, rinsing the cloth again.

"Nurse Pacino," he teased. She surveyed him from her eyelashes, trying to suppress her laughter. Failed.

"Wow, you have some sick kicks," she informed him. He chuckled. "Be nice before I put rubbing alcohol on it. You won't like me after that."

It was a difficult feat to keep her eyes on his face and not on his shirtless torso. His skin felt warm to her touch, its scent clean and masculine.

"Isabella Rae, you have more gentlemen coming to you than a hooker on Miracle Mile!" she heard Marnie chirp as she walked by. Immediately, Isabella felt her face flame and her jaw dropped.

"Mama!" she scolded. Oh dear Lord, now she was embarrassed.

"See, you now let the good-looking ones in, right as I'm about to leave to go home," Marnie said. Isabella covered her mouth in shock, hearing Don's quiet laughter beside her. Marnie surveyed Don, a smile on her face. Her mother was going to chase him away, she just knew it.

"Ooh, you're cuter than the other ones," she said. Isabella turned her head, hopping backwards.

"Mama, go pack your stuff," she pleaded.

"Wait, that's Don Flack's boy," Marnie said. Isabella shrugged, looking over at her mother.

"So?" she prompted. Marnie's blue eyes locked on Don's frost-blue as she studied his face.

"He looks just like his father," she finally murmured.

"I never thought I'd say this again, but you're embarrassing me," Isabella pleaded with her mother. Finally, Marnie held up her hands and walked away.

"Just sayin', keep this one," she called over her shoulder. Isabella buried her face in her hands, ducking her head with pure embarrassment. Dear God, kill her now!

"Sorry about my mama, she's...not like other mothers," she explained, peeking at him through her fingers.

"I take it she met the rest of the team, then?" he asked. She nodded, her face still warm.

"Yeah. She's very big on marriage and so far, she wants me to marry either Mac, Hawkes, or Danny," she replied. He let out a laugh and winced as his lip was stretched.

"Wow, Mac? No offense, but Isabella Taylor doesn't have the same ring to it as Isabella Pacino," he told her. She let out a giggle.

"Mama's from Ireland. Born and raised. In her time, women my age were already married with lots of children. She hasn't exactly come to terms with the fact I might not be able to give her that," she replied.


	31. Bringing the Band Together

**_A/N: Alrighty, let's see what else I can concoct...Cheyenne Webber is owned by the phenomenal xSunkissedxx, who was amazing enough to let me borrow her. You rock, hon! Check out her story, 'Surviving in the Concrete Jungle'. As well as some of her other stuff. She's amazing ;D_**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: I know! Sam was pretty angry...but he does have a right to be angry. His girlfriend dumped him and it seems like she's into someone he doesn't like. _**

**_Shu: Thanks! Shirtless Flack is always worth it ;D_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Lol yeah! It took me a total of thirty minutes just staring blankly at the screen in order to write that break up. I just sat there like "I suck at breaking up with people. How the hell am I gonna write this?" But then I wrote some guilt into it...but I hope you and Sam are very happy together lol. Just you wait till Logan comes into the picture! Google Josh Turner (That's MY man...you can have James Denton!) and that right there is Logan Ross. Marnie is indeed not like other mothers, which I love. She reminds me of my grandma, because that's how my grandma acted before she died._**

**_bel canto bueno: Yes...the end of Sam and Izzy, but could it be the beginning of Don and Izzy? O: Tune in for the latest drama-filled episode...or chapter xD of 'Welcome to the Jungle!'_**

* * *

><p><em>Just leave with me now<em>

_Say the word and we'll go_

_I'll be your teacher_

_I'll show you the ropes_

Jason Derulo — In My Head

* * *

><p>It was her first case back and now Mac was trying to push a partner on Isabella. It was either Hawkes or hiring someone from out of state. Isabella ran her hands through her hair, resting her head on her desk at the precinct.<p>

"Excuse me, are you Detective Pacino?" A woman's Bostonian accent caused her head to rise. Isabella nodded, her eyes setting on a striking young woman with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and chocolate brown eyes. She stared expectantly down at her. The woman wore a pair of black trousers, paired with a stylish teal button-down blouse.

"Yeah, I am," Isabella replied. A brilliant smile spread across the woman's dainty features as she held out a hand to shake hers.

"I've heard so much about you, I've read your files and everything. It's just really good to meet you," the woman said. Isabella tilted her head as she shook the woman's hand.

"Who are you?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm Cheyenne Webber, your new partner," the woman replied. Rage welled up inside of Isabella as she stood up. Her first case back, she was completely healed from the blast, and Mac decided to force the partner anyways? Why would he do that without talking to her first? Granted, Isabella was still in trauma counseling, but she was getting better. She could stand to hear cars backfire and the sound of ringing cellphones without freaking out.

"Let's get one thing straight here, Cheyenne," Isabella snapped. "I don't need a partner. I've never needed a partner, so I'll tell you what. You stay out of my way and I'll do my best to stay out of yours."

Cheyenne simply stood, stunned at her. Finally, her face hardened. "Then, it's only fair to warn you that if you treat me like dirt, I'll give it right back to you," she replied.

"Then we have an understanding?" Isabella said. Cheyenne nodded once, a jerky bob of the head.

"But I won't be the one to break it to Detective Taylor of your little choice," she quipped. The woman didn't even call him Mac. The sound of the phone ringing cut through the silence.

"Isabella, you got a call on line two!" Lynn the receptionist called. Isabella picked up her phone and cradled it to her ear.

"This is Detective Pacino," she said. Cheyenne was surveying her as she took the call.

_"Hey, leprechaun," Detective Charlie Stackhouse's voice came over the line. _Isabella felt a grin stretch from ear to ear at the sound of her old boss's voice. Charlie was the head of the crime lab in Wilmington, she had worked with him prior to her transfer to New York.

"Detective Charlie Stackhouse. To what do I owe this displeasure?" she asked. He chuckled lowly on the other line.

_"You know me too well, leprechaun. I heard that you have the John and Jane Doe killers in your city," he said._ She had been the one to identify the MO, or the _Modus Operandi _of the scene. It had been the most disgusting, gory, bloody case she had worked. The Henry Darius case hadn't even touched the John and Jane Doe killers.

The John and Jane Doe killers were a couple who had killed women in Wilmington and its surrounding suburbs. The gruesome and grisly murders had been crime scenes Isabella would never forget. The brutality of the murders as blood had been spread all over the walls

_"Do you think you'll be able to work the case?" Charlie asked. _Isabella twisted her mouth in thought.

"Nothing's impossible. I worked the case once before, there's probably no reason why I can't now," she replied. "It's all up to Mac."

* * *

><p>Mac had called a meeting in the lab, where everyone had rounded up in the conference room. Isabella rested her head on her hand as she watched Mac.<p>

"As everyone knows, the crime scene we all processed this morning belonged to what Isabella identified as the John and Jane Doe killers. We're expecting Detective Charlie Stackhouse from the crime lab in Wilmington in about three days, where he will work alongside us all in trying to catch these killers once and for all," Mac said.

"Why do they call them the John and Jane Doe killers? Does this guy kill both men and women?" Stella asked. Isabella lifted her head, waving her hand to answer the question.

"Because it's a couple. A Jack and Jill. At the scenes of the crimes, we found evidence of sexual activity. They did kill both men and women," she spoke up. Every head turned and faced her.

"Did you work this case back in Wilmington?" Danny asked. She nodded.

"It was my first big case. Trust me, the crime scene we had at the Tribeca was nothing compared to what those monsters did in the wide-open spaces," she replied.

"So, what was with the hiatus?" Hawkes asked. Isabella shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe they went to terrorize another state?" she suggested. Profiling wasn't her field.

"What was the murder weapon in the cases?" Mac asked. That was the sick part...there was none.

"Their bare hands," she replied quietly. The stunned silence nearly choked her as she lowered her gaze.

"And there were no hits in any databases?" Mac inquired. Isabella shook her head.

"No," she replied. Isabella had even cross-referenced previous reference samples and had come up with nothing.

"So, there are two wackos," Don surmised. Isabella fiddled with her necklace as she snorted.

"Yep. A couple. Man and woman. Rather than calling them the Jack and Jill killers, they seemed like ghosts. No fingerprints. Only DNA we had were biological fluids that degraded over time. Most likely, we don't have anything to reference the samples to," she replied.

"It's not exactly a woman's MO to commit this kind of crime," Stella said.

"Basically, all we have on these guys are assumptions. We assume that the woman has some sort of nervous disorder, something that makes her vulnerable to suggestion. Kind of monkey-see, monkey-do mentality. And it's how they get their sick kicks," Isabella replied. Swallowing a bit, she continued. "They aim either larger towns, or big cities. Wilmington had been their first stop, because we didn't exactly have the best police force. By the time we had gotten our bearings, they had taken off and the case went cold."

"So, what was with the sexual activity?" Mac asked. Isabella leaned back in her chair, her head tilting backwards as she carefully chewed over her next words.

"We think that they lured the opposite sex in on promises of intercourse, but they get a nasty surprise," she replied. She would have to have Charlie get her old memo book with the notes on the case from there. Right now, she had been lucky to remember this much information.

"I can have Charlie get my memo book with my notes and my hard drive files from the disk," she said. "It's been a good three years since this case has seen the light of day."

* * *

><p>Cheyenne was proving to be a good partner. The Boston native had done basically everything Isabella had asked her to do on the case with neatness and efficiency.<p>

"So, who's that really cute detective with the blue eyes?" Cheyenne, now 'Chey' asked. Isabella turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes locking with Don. She gave him a smile before turning back to Chey.

"That's Don Flack," she informed her. A knowing smile crossed Chey's pretty face as she looked over at Don.

"Is he taken?" she asked. Isabella let out a soft laugh.

"No," she replied, feeling her face warm. Chey's chocolate brown eyes lifted from Isabella to Don.

"Not yet, anyways," she said, giving Isabella a conspiratorial wink.

"I just broke up with someone else, Chey, it'll look like either Sam was a loser or I'm on the rebound," Isabella explained in a hushed voice.

"Whoa, Sam Thomas, that smoking hot detective from LA?" Chey asked, her eyes brightening. Isabella let out a laugh.

"That's him. I broke up with him about a month ago, while I was still injured," she replied. It was two and a half days until Charlie came to New York.

"Where are e on the case, Isabella?" she heard Mac ask. Isabella looked over at her boss.

"Charlie's running over our leads, see if any of our suspects left the state," she replied. Typing a few keys on the AV computers, files popped up on the screen.

"And we have names. I can see if Charlie was able to salvage any reference samples and send the data over here."

"I'll have Danny and Lindsay run these names, see if we can't get anything," Chey suggested. Mac nodded to her.

"If we get anything, I want you two tracking down these killers. We can't afford to let the press and the media get wind of this. No one talks to the press," he said before walking out.


	32. Rainy Day Confessions

**_A/N: The idea for this chapter actually woke me up in the middle of the night. I laid there in my bed (or futon, whatever you want to call it) for like...an hour and a half, just thinking about writing this out. Wishing it wasn't freaking two in the morning so I could write it out. Wishing my damn laptop had a damn cord so I could at least write it out and then go to the bookstore to upload it r.r I figured Chain Reaction was a better title than Welcome to the Jungle. I'll change it back if you guys don't like it! It's been a long time since I've written a cliche like this...the confession in the rain, all that jazz...slight M for naughtiness. Not outright smut, but we're talking like...making out, that sort of thing. Light groping...very strong T, how about that?_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: Ha ha, we have a deal then! You get James Denton and I get Josh Turner. And yes, Chey is in Sunny's Flack/OC story. I thought of 'leprechaun' while looking at some of my very earliest work *We're talking when Isabella was first created!* and the insult Isabella had been called most in high school, due to her undersized height was 'leprechaun.' Charlie is kind of a douche!_**

* * *

><p><em>We should be lovers and that's a fact<em>

_Though, nothing would keep us together_

_We could steal time just for one day_

_We could be heroes forever and ever_

Moulin Rouge (Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor) — Elephant Love Medley

* * *

><p>It was Isabella's favorite weather. Thunderstorms. The first thunderstorm of the season, which promised to be a spectacular light show. Rain pelted the sidewalks as everyone in New York struggled to take cover. Isabella couldn't even enjoy the storm as the storm rumbled overhead. Right now, she was focused on the figure running away from her. Her hair was plastered to her face, her clothes clinging to her lithe body like a second skin as her feet pounded on the pavement.<p>

"NYPD! Stop!" she yelled, swinging her weapon out. The wind whistled by her, stinging her eyes as she continued her pursuit. As the figure ran into the alley, she followed.

"Freeze!" she ordered, poising her weapon to take fire. "NYPD."

From this distance, she couldn't tell if the figure was a man or a woman. "Turn around slowly with your hands up," she said, stepping closer. The figure's hands were up in a submissive position as it rotated to stare her face to face. Now her contacts were bugging her, but she could clearly see the short, woman before her. Her face was barely illuminated by the street light overhead.

"Get down on the ground," Isabella ordered. Slowly, the woman obeyed. She looked over her shoulder for backup. Switching her gun to clutch it in her left hand, she pressed the talk button on her radio.

"This is Detective Isabella Pacino, requesting backup in the West 57th street alley by the Hudson & Jeffrey law firm. I have a suspect in custody," she said, slapping a pair of handcuffs on the woman before her.

"I always liked a dominant woman," the woman sneered. Her name was Lola James, one of the suspects on the John and Jane Doe killers in Wilmington.

"You don't remember me, Lola? I'm hurt," Isabella said, jerking Lola to her feet. The sound of sirens cut through the night rain as a slow smile curved across her face.

"I think I'd remember a woman like you. Hotter than white fire, best damn rack I've ever seen..." Lola replied, standing a good six inches taller than her.

"I busted your ass back in Wilmington. Remember me now?" she said as the squad car pulled up. Officers filed out of the car and took Lola towards the vehicle.

"You!" she snarled over her shoulder. Isabella holstered her weapon and gave Lola a wave with her fingertips. Swinging her wet hair out of her face, she walked out of the alley.

"You're soaked to the bone," Danny commented as he helped her into the Avalanche. She looked up at him with a grin and shivered.

"Running in the rain does that to you," she replied.

* * *

><p>Isabella finally changed out of her wet clothes into her old academy sweatpants and a tank top (courtesy of an apartment-run by Lindsay) and she padded across the lab floor in her Converses.<p>

"Look at you, Raindance," Danny teased as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Hey, who was the one who chased down Lola James in the rain and in the storm? You? I don't think so," she stated, fidgeting with the end of her ponytail. She shivered a bit as she pulled her hoodie on, zipping it up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Danny," she called over her shoulder at him as she walked out of the Trace Analysis lab. Her eyes locked on the retreating figure of Flack as she followed him.

"Hey, Don, mind if I get a ride home with you? It'd save me money on a cab," she said. His eyes slid over to her, but said nothing.

"Why don't you ask Sam? I'm sure he'd love to," he retorted icily. What the hell?

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, tilting her head. More silence. As they stood in the elevator, Isabella looked up at him.

"Don, what's wrong?" she asked again. He merely stood silent in the elevator as it continued its descent. As they stepped out in the rain, he finally stopped and looked at her.

"Do you still want Sam?" he yelled over the rain. Isabella was floored as her feet were glued to the sidewalk. Putting on her hood would be pointless now as her clothes were soaked by the fat raindrops. Thunder rumbled

"The hell kinda question is that? It's over between me and him!" she yelled back.

"What do you want?" he said, his voice lowering. He was getting soaked as well, his suit clinging to his muscular frame like a second skin.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes on his.

"Who do you want, Isabella? Me or him?" he asked. Blinking in confusion, she stared at him.

"You," she replied simply. Surprise flickered in his eyes as he stared her down. Lightning flashed overhead, a terrific boom of thunder cracking through the air. Her heart swelled as she continued.

"Don, I've never wanted anything in my life, because every time I try to want something, it gets taken away from me. I stayed away from you so it wouldn't hurt if I lost you, but staying away hurt more than getting shot at or getting caught in the blast."

He merely stared her down as he looked down at her.

"I'm standing here in the pouring rain during a thunderstorm to tell you how I feel and you just stand there," she said, humiliation creeping up on her. The puddle around her feet grew with each inch of rain, soaking the hemline of her sweatpants.

"You were off-limits to me, I would've gone after you a long time before that," he explained finally. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she looked at him. Another loud clap of thunder resonated through the air, causing her to flinch.

"And now?" she asked, fearing his next words. He took two long steps before pulling her against his chest, his lips crashing against hers. Her arms laced around his neck to return the kiss, stretching onto her toes to deepen it. His breath mingled with hers, hot and wanting. A shiver ran down her spine as the kisses swapped back and forth between them. Her heart palpitated wildly behind her ribs as they finally pulled away.

"Nothing could keep me away," he swore.

* * *

><p>The drive home to their apartment building felt like the longest drive in the world to him as he drove as fast as he was allowed to. Isabella was his now. Finally.<p>

After they reached the elevator, he felt Isabella's arms snake around his neck as he turned his head to meet her lips with his again. Sixteen months had been too long to wait for this. Hell, nearly three years had been far too long to wait for this. Their kiss a while back was nothing compared to this. An act of curiosity, one could call it.

"Now, for the implied question," he muttered between kisses. A soft giggle escaped her lips as his lips moved from hers to nuzzle at the soft skin of her neck.

"Mine," she told him, tugging him down the hall. This woman was going to kill him. Her soft body pressed against his as she pulled her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door. If she really wanted something, nothing got in her way. Her lips touched his neck, sucking gently. He let out a groan as he kicked the door shut behind them. Don unzipped her hoodie, stripping it off of her body and they somehow found their way to the couch. His hands slid up the bottom of her shirt to explore her skin. It was warm, soft, and silky to the touch. He kissed her throat, causing her head to tilt backwards for better access. She finally let out a moan as she arched into him.

And now, she found his Achilles' heel. The spot right under his ear, where the line of his jaw began. He shuddered and groaned as Isabella brushed her lips over the spot, nuzzling it with feather-light touches. As his hands slid higher, she wriggled under him. His mouth slanted against hers, soaked body against soaked body. Her tongue teased his mouth open and their tongues met. Her hands explored his torso the same way his hands were exploring hers. He knew now that if he kissed the base of her throat, by her collarbone, she went insane. The sound of one of their cellphones ringing broke the silence and they both groaned.

"It's mine," she said, standing up and crossing the room. Isabella bit her lip before flipping the phone open. Don glanced at his watch. Damn, he had to go.

"I gotta go," he told her. She nodded and pulled the phone away to peck his lips with hers.

"See you tomorrow," she mouthed before putting the phone back to her face. "Yeah, I'm still here, Ian."

Don chuckled and slid out of the apartment to cross the hall to his.


	33. Dangerous

**_A/N: 8DDD I love days off...by the way, I posted pictures of Aria, Levi, Ian, Sam, Logan, and Marnie on my profile. That'll kind of give a picture of who I'm writing...by the way, I have two banners of 'Chain Reaction', so nicely made for me by two of my friends. Let's give them a round of applause! Let me know what you guys think of them! This is officially my longest running story EVUR.  
><em>**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: Yeah lol. My difficulty with that notebook thing is, I'll write in it when I'm half-asleep and I'll have things that say: Watch TV at nine and eggs sound good for food. _**

**_Shu: That was my reaction when I wrote this XDDD_**

**_bel canto bueno: That idea I think was brought on by me watching 'The Notebook' before bed. I thought it was too perfect!_**

* * *

><p><em>Girl, I can't notice but to notice you noticin' me<em>

_From across the room, I can see you and can't stop myself_

_From looking and noticin' you noticin' me_

_Watch out, I've seen her type before_

_That girl is so dangerous  
><em>

Akon — Dangerous

* * *

><p>Isabella paced the lab the next day. Charlie had finally come in from JFK with her case notes, along with her hard drive. On her hard drive, were copies of crime scene photos, evidence logs, notes, and research she had done. Isabella had prided herself on being the most meticulous on the team, simply for the sake of getting the job done. That way, in court, nothing would be called into question.<p>

"You're gonna wear a hole in the floor, Pacino," Chey commented from her perch in her chair. Her legs were crossed in a ladylike fashion, her dirty blonde hair smoothed over into a low ponytail over her right shoulder.

"I don't get why you wear skirts and heels to work, Chey," Isabella snapped back. Her eyes settled on Chey's outfit of choice: a pencil skirt, a ruffly cream-colored blouse, and dainty black high heels. A far cry from Isabella's attire. Isabella wore a pair of dark straight-leg jeans, a turquoise camisole, a three-quarter sleeve black blazer and her favorite pair of boots.

"I'm just glad you finally cut off your hair. Seriously, it was touching your ass," Chey snarked, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling with good humor. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"It was getting in my way at work," she explained. After much kicking and fighting, Isabella's waist-length raven hair had been cut to her shoulders and donated to charity. Now, instead of being scraggly and just...there, it actually had shape, framing her face in a sexy, bedhead style. "And these bangs are driving me nuts." She let out a huff to blow her forehead bangs out of her face to make her point.

"You'll get used to them," Chey singsonged as she typed away on her computer. She gave her partner a lazy look from her eyelashes as she smiled.

"Well, you're just no help," Isabella muttered as she looked over her shoulder to see the elevator doors open. Her heart leaped in her chest, then sank as Danny came into view.

"Dammit, Messer, I thought you were Charlie," she said, poking her head out of her office.

"Go get some tea to calm your nerves, Isabella. You're driving _me_ nuts!" Chey informed her. Isabella's eyes rolled skywards as she walked out of the glass room.

"Wow, Isabella, I almost didn't recognize you," she heard Adam comment behind her. She felt a smile spread across her face as she looked over her shoulder at the lab tech.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said as she continued her walk towards the break room.

"When did you get it cut? Seriously, it looks great," Adam said. Isabella let out a soft giggle as she reached up to find a tea mug and the box of peppermint tea.

"I got it done yesterday and donated it to charity. The lady did a great job," she replied as her fingers brushed against the ceramic of a mug. Giving it a tug, it dropped out of the cupboard and landed on the floor, smashing in a million pieces. The box of tea fell down and the teabags rolled all across the floor.

"Potrei avere più goffo? Maledizione!" she swore as she fumbled to find a broom.

[Could I get any more clumsy? Damn!]

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, cher?" Isabella jolted upright as the familiar Southern twang of Logan Ross' voice reached her ears. She looked over her shoulder and let out a squeal of delight.

"Logan!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. He swung her around in a circle, his arms wrapped tight around her waist.

"I managed to convince Charlie to let me do this case instead of him," his rich baritone voice caused her to shiver. She had grown up closely alongside Logan. Their mothers had been best friends back home in Ireland and Isabella had known Logan since she had lived in Brooklyn, the two visiting back and forth.

"I'm glad he did!" she said, looking around for a broom. Her embarrassment and brief anger ebbed immediately as she looked into his eyes. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes of his. Logan moved a door and held out the broom to her. Isabella looked over at Adam.

"Adam, this is Detective Logan Ross, he's a CSI from the Wilmington Crime Lab," she said, nodding to Logan. Her eyes met those of her best friend's.

"Logan, this is Adam Ross, he's a senior lab tech. I highly doubt you two are related, but it's still interesting to hear you two share the same last name." The two men shook hands.

"Nice to meet you," Logan said with a half-smile. Adam nodded.

"Likewise," he replied. Isabella swept the remains of the mug into the dustpan attached to the broom and dumped it into the garbage can.

"Did Charlie give you my data on the case?" she asked, thankful that it was Logan and not Charlie that had come. Charlie would have told embarrassing stories of Isabella's early days as a cop. Logan wouldn't dare to share any stories, because he had been involved in the majority of them.

"You mean your case notes and your hard drive? Yeah, it's in my rental car," Logan replied. She beamed a smile at him and slid the broom back onto the hook behind the door. Her eyes locked on Don as he jogged into the break room. Her heartbeat quickened as he got closer, a thrill running through her. When his eyes met Logan's, they turned slightly sour.

"Is this Detective Stackhouse?" Don asked. Logan shook his head, extending a hand.

"I'm Detective Logan Ross, I came in Charlie's place," he explained. Don shook the other man's hand.

"I'm Detective Don Flack, NYPD Homicide," he introduced himself. His eyes met Isabella's and on the floor.

"You dumped the tea again, didn't you," he stated. She gave him a sheepish smile.

"She broke a mug while she was at it, too," Logan replied. Isabella slapped her friend on the arm.

"And proceeded to swear like a sailor," Adam spoke up. She looked over at the lab tech, glaring at him playfully.

"I only said 'damn'," she defended. Don ruffled her hair.

"With that kind of language, I'm surprised IAB isn't on your ass," he joked. She shoved him.

"Alright, let's quit gettin' on my ass and get this case solved," she said.

* * *

><p>And so, there was Lola James in Interrogation. The woman had tried to escape police custody and now, they were legally able to hold her. Don held the door open for Isabella as they walked in. He had staked the claim to be in with her.<p>

"I'm glad you're here. Lola James hit on me three times already," Isabella muttered in his ear. He let out a laugh as he closed the door. Lola James was a tall, thin bleach-blonde with bloodshot hazel eyes and a gaunt face with blotchy skin. She resembled a hooker from Miracle Mile.

"Looks like I got the two hottest cops in town to bust my ass. Must be my lucky day," Lola sneered. Don snorted.

"Well, where you're going, there'll be a whole new crop," he retorted. Isabella flipped open the folder, glancing coolly at the woman in the chair. Good cop was definitely her in this scenario. Bad cop went to Don.

"You know, we have evidence that supports your being in a hotel room at the Tribeca Star Hotel," she said, her Southern accent twanging from her words.

"So? Lots of people go there," Lola snapped. Don chuckled.

"Where were you three nights ago between the hours of ten and midnight?" he asked. Lola leaned back in the chair, the hem of her shirt riding up.

"Don't remember. I was probably out at The End Zone. That's where I work, you know," she replied. Isabella snapped the folder shut.

"Is there anyone who could possibly confirm that?" she asked, looking up at her. Lola smirked and shook her head.

"Nope," she replied. Isabella let out a chuckle and slapped down crime scene photos, pushing them towards her.

"Ever hear of Julia King? She was a stripper at The End Zone," she said. Lola's eyes were cold. Julia King had been savagely murdered. It had taken Adam and Hawkes both doing Fast-Scan to revive the skeleton. The woman had died from a bludgeoning, nearly every bone in her body had been crushed. Her face had been unrecognizable.

"Julia was a bitch. I'm glad she's dead," she replied, tossing her bleached hair. Don let out a dry chuckle.

"I can see you're just so overwhelmed with remorse over her death," he said, a sarcastic note in his voice.

"Last time we met, Lola, you threw a steel table at me and Detective Archer and nearly killed us both," Isabella commented. He glanced over at her.

"I had nothing to say to you guys," Lola replied. Isabella let out an unladylike snort.

"Oh, because that's how I tell people I'm done talking to them. I throw shit at them," she retorted. She turned to look at Don. "Duck for cover at the end of conversations, alright? Apparently, throwing shit is all the rage and I'd hate for you to get hurt." He tried to unsuccessfully stifle a laugh.

"Yeah, same for you, Pacino," he returned. It was clear that they were swapping good cop and bad cop. But, his girlfriend was a pretty good bad cop.

"Besides, some of the amazing lab techs at the lab ran some prints in the hotel room, and they came back to you," Isabella said. Lola snorted.

"Bitch, I ain't ever been picked up by the NYPD, except for last night when you pulled that gun on me in the alley," she dismissed the statement.

"Well, that's what tends to happen when you throw someone into a trash can and take off. The minute you decided to jump at me, that was when I became the bad cop," Isabella snarled, slapping the table.

"Where were you, Lola? 'Cause you got till the count of three before she and I walk out of here and you're charged with assault on an officer," Don said, speaking up for the first time in a few minutes. Isabella's blue-flame eyes were dark and sparking with anger as she glared at the other woman.

"Oh, will I go into timeout, Detective? I can think of another thing you can do to me for punishment," Lola purred. She knew she was getting under Isabella's skin. Isabella's hands balled into tight fists as she pulled herself up to her full five foot two height.

"One," Isabella said, closing her eyes tightly. "Two." Hesitation between three.

"Three. Book her, Flack. I'm out," she said before scooping up her folder and storming out of interrogation.

* * *

><p>She heard footsteps behind her as she tossed down her folders. Isabella ran her hands through her hair as she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Her anger was at an all-time high as she fought the urge to throw her chair.<p>

"What the hell happened in there, Isabella? You completely lost your cool!" Mac said to her. She looked up at Mac.

"She didn't do it. Lola King is a bitch with a cop fetish, but she's not a killer. Cop beater, maybe, but not a killer," she informed him.

"Then, why did you let her get under your skin? She could sue us for harassment! I should take you off of this case, but I'm not," he told her.

"I don't have a good answer, Mac," she admitted. She gripped the back of her chair as she shook her head.

"I want you scouring that hard drive and I want you chasing down every lead that you can think of. This is your case and you need to see this through," Mac said.

"I know, I know. I need to give it my all, and I'm trying my hardest," she replied.

"Trying isn't good enough, Isabella. Don't try. Do," he snapped before walking off.

* * *

><p>Isabella rested her head on Logan's shoulder in fatigue.<p>

"Did you get taken off the case?" he asked her. She shook her head, her eyelids weighing heavily.

"No, but I did get the NYPD oath pounded into me again. "Don't try. Do"," she quoted. It had been a whole three years since she had last seen Logan. It felt good to see her old best friend again. His messy brown hair spiked out at the ends and he chuckled.

"I missed you, Izzy," he told her. "Work was a pain in the ass without you."

She smiled up at him. "I missed you too," she replied. "Being in the big city with only my brother and my daddy's side of the family was terrifying."

"I remember when the kids would make fun of you for your little Brooklyn accent. They couldn't understand you," Logan said, ruffling her hair. She swatted his hand away.

"Yeah, well, their accents were funny to me, too," she replied. His eyes grew thoughtful as he looked down at her.

"So, I noticed you around Detective Flack today. New boyfriend?" he asked. She let out a giggle. Logan Ross knew her too damn well for her own good.

"It's recent, but yes. I've known him since I first started working here and we got really close. The recentness of this is actually two days ago," she said, fiddling with the hem of her camisole as Don Flack entered her thoughts.

"He's a nice guy. He'd better be good to you, because plane tickets from Wilmington and New York are expensive. I don't want to have to drive from the South to the North to kick some Yankee Queens-native's ass because he hurt you," he replied. Her eyes rolled skywards as she nudged him playfully.

"He's not afraid to hurt my feelings, that's what I need. I can be a pain in the ass," she pointed out. Logan kissed the top of her head.

"Don't I know it," he teased.


	34. Insecurities Fixed With A Smile

**_A/N: And so, my nightly update begins! You guys seriously don't know how much you rock my socks...your reviews definitely make my day! And OMG did y'all hear about the earthquake today in Virginia? I felt it and I live like...in NC. Of course, I didn't know what was going on, I was like: "LOLDERP THOSE RASCALLY SOLDIERS ARE AT IT AGAIN 8D"_**

**_Shu: Ha ha, I like to post multiple chapters on my days off from babysitting, hence my 'demon-like' updating skills!_**

**_MesserGirl: You're so sweet, thank you!_**

**_bel canto bueno: Logan is sticking around for the duration of this case, which should take up a few more chapters. I love their friendship as well, Logan and Isabella will always be my favorite friendship to write. The whole 'good cop, bad cop' thing popped into my head and I liked how in-tune Don and Isabella were in this. Glad you enjoyed it_**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: Ha ha, me too! It's her baby, so I thought she should see this through. We can thank my friends Lust and Ao for those banners, they're both phenomenal  
>^-^. As for Ian...I think he's pretty damn good-looking too, but Logan and Levi are definitely the best looking of the group!<em>**

* * *

><p><em>You make me smile like the sun<em>

_Fall out of bed, sing like a bird_

_Dizzy in my head, spin like a record_

_Crazy on a Sunday night_

_You make me dance like a fool_

_Forget how to breathe_

_Shine like gold, buzz like a bee_

_Just the thought of you can drive me wild_

_Oh, you make me smile_

Uncle Kracker — Smile

* * *

><p>Isabella had been at this damn case for three days now, with breaks to go home, shower, eat, and change clothes. That was it. Her jacket slung over the back of her chair and she rested her head onto her desk for a slight break. She hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep until she felt someone shaking her shoulder. Isabella raised her head, her eyelids weighing heavily against her face, a sticky note attached to her eyebrow. Her tired eyes met those of Stella's.<p>

"You need to sleep, Isabella," she told her. Isabella rubbed the waterline of her eyes as she stretched.

"I don't have time. I'm surprised I even fell asleep at my desk," she replied, stifling a yawn. Glancing at her reflection on her desk, her hair was plastered to the side of her face and she tucked it behind her ear.

"Here, take a few hours off and crash on the couch in the break room. It'll clear your head and keep you on your toes," Stella suggested. Isabella finally yawned into her bare shoulder and slid up her lavender camisole strap.

"Thanks, Stell," she said groggily and stood up. She slung her jacket over her shoulders and staggered out of her office, trying her hardest to keep her eyes open. This case was kicking her ass physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was a miracle she was able to make it to the couch before she closed her eyes again to sleep. Beggars couldn't be choosers in this scenario, as jeans weren't particularly comfortable to sleep in.

"Isabella, it's time to wake up. We have another crime scene," Danny's voice cut through her sleep-hazed mind.

"Dammit, Messer, Stella told me I need to sleep!" she complained. The sharp pain of her nose being flicked turned on her instincts. Reflexively, she grabbed the offender's arm and threw them onto the ground. Her eyes snapped open as she had Logan pinned under her.

"Sorry, Lobo," she apologized before helping him to his feet. He chuckled and stood up.

"Not your fault, I should've known better," he replied. Isabella took a deep breath and looked up at Danny.

"Got my kit?" she asked.

* * *

><p>Finally, Isabella was able to fall into bed. After much sluggishness on her part, Mac had granted mercy on her and gave her the night off.<p>

"I get to sleep tonight," she singsonged as she walked down the hallway of her apartment building. Her eyes turned to Don's door as she hesitated. Screw sleep and see her boyfriend? That just seemed a little clingy. And as sad as it was that staying home for one night and sleeping through the night were her goals of the month, she was excited to be off.

Isabella finally slid the key into her lock, the rest of them jingling from the key-chain with each motion. Glancing over her shoulder, she finally prized her door open. Her apartment was dimly lit by the overhead light on the stove, the rest was pitch black. And freezing cold. Just the way she liked it.

She took a deep breath and pressed the answering machine button, the digital numbers reading '3', meaning she had three voice mail messages. Her plan was to listen to her messages while she unwound herself from the week's strenuous activities.

_"Isabella, it's your mother. I haven't heard from you in a while and I wanted to check up on you. I'd heard from Logan's mother that he had gone to New York to work on a case with you and I just wanted to see how it was going. Love you, honey!" _Marnie's sunshiny voice chirped. Isabella rolled her eyes as she slid her gun into her nightstand drawer. The next was from Carmen, her cousin.

_"Hey, cuz. Just wanted to see if you're still able to drop Ricky and Seraphina off at daycare on Saturday while I work the breakfast shift at work. Love you tons!" _Carmen's Brooklyn accent trilled. Isabella smiled as she pictured the petite gang member. At first glance, Carmen looked terrifying with her tongue ring, lip ring, and tattoos, but she was a very sweet woman who did everything she could for her family. The final one was from her father.

_"Hi there, honeybee. It's your daddy, I just wanted to see how you were doing and how that case of yours is going. I love you!" _Armando said, his gruff Italian accent soft.

_"There are no more messages," _a robotic woman's voice said from the living room. Isabella tossed her work clothes into her hamper and pulled a plum-colored tank top with a pair of low-rise dark blue pajama bottoms. She padded barefoot into her living room to delete the messages and let out a yawn as she crossed the room into the kitchen for a bottle of water. The sound of someone knocking on the door echoed throughout the otherwise empty and silent apartment as she crossed the room towards the door, water bottle in hand. Of course, it was her ritual to stand on her toes and peer through the peephole. Back home, her visitors had been standard: Mama, Ian, Aria, or Logan. Occasionally Emmett or Jason, Levi's old friend, but her closest friends and her mother were her most consistent visitors. Isabella quickly undid the locks, swinging the chain away from home.

"Hi there," she greeted Don as she opened the door. His tired blue eyes met hers as he tilted her chin up to examine her face. "Is there something I can help you with there?"

He chuckled, his thumb touching her chin gently. "Heard you had a bit of a rough day. Thought I'd come by and see how you were doing," he replied. Isabella raised her eyebrow as she studied his face.

"Okay? And you felt the need to check for bug bites and bruises? I made it back safe," she pointed out. She felt herself returning his incredible smile as she let out a soft laugh of her own.

"What's this about?" she asked, blinking in confusion. He shook his head to dismiss the question.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to check up on you," he replied. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked up at him. Someone told him to look after her. Who?

"Well, I would've knocked on my way in, but I figured you were sleeping. It's nine o'clock," she said, glancing over her shoulder. She was being distracted and she knew it. Right now, she was too tired to care. Even though she should care.

"It's fine," he assured her. Right now, with the case and Logan being in town, she would just go with the flow for once. Her hair hung in her face and she pulled away from him to fix her ponytail, her dark tresses fanning out around her shoulders.

"Oh, you cut your hair," he commented. Isabella couldn't help her laugh; she knew Don was a guy, but he had seen her with her hair down since she had gotten it cut and hadn't said a thing.

"Last week," she replied as she tied her hair back into a ponytail. Her bangs hung her face and she looked up at him. "I cut off twenty inches and donated it to charity."

"It looks good," he said. She beamed a smile up at him. He frowned a bit. "How long have you known Logan?"

Isabella blinked in confusion as she tilted her head in thought. She had assumed when he and Logan had gone to chase down a lead, that Logan would explain their friendship.

"I've known him my entire life. His mom and my mom were real good friends, they grew up together back in Ireland. We used to visit back and forth between New York and Wilmington before we finally up and moved there," she explained. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

"So, he's not an old boyfriend?" he asked. No one had asked him to check on her, he was seeing if she would explain Logan. She let out a laugh.

"Definitely not," she assured him. "We're just very close friends, he's like my brother." She had to admit; insecure and slightly jealous Don was adorable.

"I just wondered. You two looked pretty cozy when he had gotten here," he said. She slid her arms around him to give him a hug.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know. When he leaves, I'm staying here," she informed him, propping her chin up to lock gazes with him.

"That's good news, but I didn't factor you to be the kind of girl to stay for kicks and leave when homesickness set in," he said. Letting out a giggle, she rested her cheek against his chest. She could hear the soft, rhythmic thud of his heartbeat under her touch.

"Regular sickness, more like. I love my family, but we're a dramatic bunch. Give us lights and a camera, and we're 'All My Wilmington'," she joked. He brushed his lips over hers in a gentle kiss, letting out an amuse laugh.

"I happen to enjoy one member of your family," he chided. Feeling devilish, her arms went from his waist to his neck as she giggled again.

"I knew it. You were just using me as a cover-up. You and Levi were meant to be, I get it," she sighed playfully, turning her head. Don snorted.

"Yeah, right. I was talking about you, smart-aleck," he informed her.

"Aw, that was almost sweet."


	35. Fireworks

**_A/N: The show must go on 8D By the way, guys, listen to 4th of July by Joanna Pacitti. It really reminds me of 'Flacino', like during their little moments...Very strong T rating for this chapter, or a borderline M._**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: So, now we have a Levi fangirl and an Ian fangirl! I used to live in California and I remember feeling an earthquake. My family was freaking out and I was just like: "lolwut"_**

**_matt-hardy-fan-101: Thank you! ^0^_**

* * *

><p><em>It seemed like a dream b<em>_ut I'm wide-awake  
><em>_And like the earth, inside it made me shake  
><em>_Like a summer fairytale, it was real  
><em>_You set off a brand new spark inside of me_

_No, I won't forget and I don't regret  
>Losing myself deep inside your eyes<br>That night I'll remember for the rest of my life _

Joanna Pacitti — 4th of July (I keep picking out some very fluffy songs, but they're too perfect!)

* * *

><p>Working part-time was hard on Don. He couldn't help the cold stab of jealousy in his gut as he watched Sam and Thacker leave the precinct to follow up on a lead that had been deemed potentially dangerous. Don wanted to be out there with them, but until the doctor cleared him for field work, it was making phone calls and catching up on paperwork. Isabella had bitten his head off for going into Interrogation with her. She had deemed Lola James 'unstable'. According to old reports, Lola James had flung a table at two detectives. Isabella had been one of the detectives and had been lucky enough to escape with minor bruises. Unfortunately, Don's only conversational partner was Cheyenne Webber, the new CSI transfer from Boston. No doubt the woman was attractive and smart, but she didn't know what the hell anyone was talking about when it came to sports.<p>

"I have to ask; why aren't you out there with the rest of them?" he heard Cheyenne quietly ask. He turned his head to look at her and shook his head.

"I haven't been cleared for field work yet. If I were, I wouldn't be sitting here right now," he replied bitterly. He felt slightly guilty for being so harsh, but it was the truth. Don Flack Jr hadn't been cleared for field work, and Isabella was. He trusted her, he really did, but it gave him a peace of mind knowing that he could have her back in the case of an emergency.

"That has to be hard. I heard about the explosion," Cheyenne remarked from her desk. He scratched the back of his head vigorously as he turned to look at her.

"Yeah, well, it's an occupational hazard," he replied. His eyes strayed to the precinct doors and growled. The next few hours would prove to tick by very slowly for him.

* * *

><p>Isabella reached out and knocked on an apartment door, clutching her Glock in her left hand. She was flanked by Danny, Logan, Thacker, and Sam as they stood beside her.<p>

"Henry Stockwood, NYPD. Open up!" she called through the door, flinching inwardly.

"Whatever happened to knocking loudly until they opened the door and then introducing yourself? That way, they can't run," Logan whispered from her left. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Because they could be armed. I said open up!" she said, pounding on the door again. She nodded to Logan and she brought out her foot to collide by the doorknob, sending the door flying into the darkness. A window was open, the curtain flapping in the breeze.

Sounds of 'clear!' echoed throughout the space.

"Damn, he's probably long gone," she growled as she looked out the window. Isabella turned to her radio. "This is Detective Isabella Pacino, setting out an APB on a Henry Stockwood. Five foot nine, weighing around one hundred and forty pounds, last seen in the Bronx, considered armed, delusional, and dangerous. I want all units responding."

She waited for a radio transmission of confirmation. _"Copy that, Detective Pacino."_

Isabella holstered her gun back onto her hip and looked around the upturned apartment. Why was it that this case came with so many dead ends?

"Alright guys, let's head on back," she said. She pointed to two officers. "I want more patrols in this area. If anyone even gets a whiff of this guy, I want to know about it."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied. She gave them a nod before looking over her shoulder to her partners.

"You guys coming?" she asked. Logan tutted as he followed after her.

"Miss Bossy," he teased. She winked at him over her shoulder and gave him a cool smile.

"You wouldn't want me any other way, Ross," she reminded him.

* * *

><p>"I told you not to tell that story!" Isabella complained as Logan launched into another story. Her head went into her hands, her face cherry red with an embarrassed blush. Logan had launched into the story of training in the academy, when Isabella had tried to cut corners and wound up falling onto her face in front of everyone in their unit. Literally.<p>

"It was frigging hilarious," Logan said, his body still shaking with laughter. Her head popped up and she glared playfully at him.

"Oh yeah? What about the time you tried to jump the fence and your pants got caught?" she countered. When his face stilled, she grinned at him before continuing.

"Yeah, but it's different. Whoever's eavesdropping doesn't really know me, but they know you," Logan pointed out. She grinned.

"Yep, but the majority of the stories you have on me are ones that you've starred in as well," she said, crossing her arms. A wicked smile started to carve itself on his features, the twinkle in his eye causing her blood to run cold.

"I swear on my pretty floral bonnet, Logan James Ross, if you even _dare_ to bring that up!" she warned. He didn't have to. Instead, the jerk simply grinned at her.

"Ooh, she Logan James'd me," he teased, patting Isabella's knee. "Isabella Rae."

"Oh well, everyone here knows my middle name. Levi's called me that enough, I'm surprised I'm not introduced as 'Detective Isabella Rae Pacino'," she replied as her eyes rolled upwards to look at the ceiling.

"See, now you're no fun. You've taken away my secret weapon..." Logan trailed off, his blue eyes glistening with amusement. Isabella stuck out her tongue like a petulant child.

"C'mon, let's quit messing around in the lab. We've got evidence to process..." she snarked.

* * *

><p>It was the end of the night when Don heard footsteps in the hall. Telltale sign of Isabella. Everyone else on the floor had already retired to their apartments. The sound of a soft knock alerted him and he stood up. Don had been tending his bandage, changing the gauze and applying the ointment to it. When he opened the door, the petite figure of Isabella stood on the threshold, biting her lip. Her expressive blue eyes met his, shining with some kind of emotion.<p>

"I wanted to see you," she said finally. Don cupped her face in his hand and kissed her lips. She returned the kiss gently and his other hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her close to him. His tongue traced the outline of her lower lip, probing her to open her mouth. Finally, she relented and her tongue slid along his. That damn doctor's orders kept him from any 'vigorous activity', such as field work or strenuous sex. Hardcore making out and light groping had ensued between them several times since the storm of a few weeks ago. He could feel that familiar tug below his waist. Was it time to test the boundaries? Was she ready?

When her hands rested on his hips to tug him closer, he groaned. There was his answer. He pulled away for a moment to tilt her chin up.

"I don't think our neighbors would approve of us making out in the hallway, Lionheart," he told her. A smile graced her kiss-swollen lips as she nudged him into his apartment.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about," she purred.


	36. Don't Mess With My Family

**_A/N: I had to rush to finish up that chapter...and I have time to write another chapter! 8D I love the song I used for the last chapter, I've been listening to it for a long time now xD I'm in such a Joanna Pacitti mood..._**

**_bel canto bueno: I think he would, too! I'll use that for Logan's last night in town xD I'm so happy I was able to keep your interest!_**

**_Shu: I was hoping you'd catch it lol. I meant to lengthen the chapter a bit, but I decided to end it there. You're welcome and thanks for the review!_**

* * *

><p><em>I'm gonna get the fire started<em>

_Impossible for you to breathe_

_The temperature is rising up, up so hot_

_'Cause I'm burning up_

Cascada — Pyromania

* * *

><p>The sounds of pants and moans filled the air as the two of them writhed around on Don's bed. Isabella let out a squealing giggle as his lips brushed across her collarbone, the scruff on his cheek tickling her chest. He pulled away and looked up at her.<p>

"You hear that?" he asked. She rested her hands on his bare shoulders as she tilted her head. Nothing was heard.

"Hear what?"

"Exactly."

Her eyes rolled skywards and their lips met again in a searing kiss. The sound of a phone ringing cut through the otherwise silent air and they both let out an aggravated groan.

"I can overlook your sister and my brothers interrupting us once by coincidence, but this is getting ridiculous," Isabella said, sitting up. Don leaned over her and picked up her phone from the nightstand.

"It's Levi," he informed her. She flipped the cell open.

"Hey, Levi," she greeted her older brother.

_"Izzy, I found out why Lacey has been ignoring me all this time," Levi said in a hushed voice. _The urgency in her brother's tone kick-started her cop instincts and she raked a hand through her hair in an attempt to tame her messy tresses. Lacey Fuentes had been Levi's high school sweetheart. She was Hispanic with skin the color of rich cinnamon, pin-straight raven black hair, and smiling cocoa-brown eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked, her tone going flat. There was a silence before he answered.

_"Lacey has an abusive boyfriend and he's decided he doesn't like me. He's been threatening me and a few nights ago, I was jumped by three guys while I was on patrol with my team," Levi replied. _Isabella's earlier irritation at the intrusion vanished, replaced with concern and anger.

"What's his name?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing into a steely glare. If she knew the guy, she knew of people who owed her favors. She could make the guy back off of her big brother from many miles away.

_"Diego Vasquez," Levi replied. _Isabella knew of the man. He had been second-in-command of the Snakebite Mafia in Wilmington. The SBM ruled over Nixon Street and was working their way uptown. They were vicious, lethal, and effective. Their retaliation had often proved to the Wilmington Police Department that they weren't above beating down a cop, or killing them.

"Tell me what you want done and I'll do it," she said. No one messed with her family and got away with it. Right now, her life was full of drama and she could deal with it. Drama with aftershock of an explosion, receiving a new partner, and a major case was in her life, but she would throw it all onto the back-burner when it came to those close to her.

_"I have his number and I want you to tell him to back off. I tried and he's blocked my number. He's going to do something impulsive and I'm afraid Lacey's going to get hurt," Levi replied softly. _

"I'll do it. He won't be bothering you anymore," Isabella assured him and snapped her phone shut. She squeezed her phone in her hand, her eyes closed.

"What was with Levi?" Don asked, his voice causing her to jump. Her eyes flew open and she gritted her teeth.

"Remember the girl Levi wanted to marry?" she said. He nodded slowly. "Her abusive boyfriend threatened Levi and a few of his lackeys jumped him a few nights ago."

"I don't want you involved. This guy could have contacts here," he told her. She ran her hand over his, clasping it gently.

"And I have contacts there. If Diego Vasquez wants me and comes across state lines for me, all my informants have to do is give me a call and I've got my family at my back. And if he surprises me, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing. I can take care of myself in that scenario," she assured him. Don tensed as his eyes roved over her athletic body. She curled her bare legs under her, her thumb caressing his knuckles in reassurance. Things had almost gone all the way and she sat on his bed in her tank top and underwear.

"And if he has a gun?" he queried. Isabella kissed his bare shoulder, looking up at him.

"Then I'm screwed," she joked. His icy blue eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "I'm kidding."

"That's not very reassuring. This isn't your fight and I don't want you involved," he repeated.

"Would you do it for your family?" she asked, her brows furrowing. He hesitated before answering, a grimace on his handsome face.

"That's different," he told her. She shook her head.

"Would you?" she repeated. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and his thumb. "What if Sam or Jared or Jason got involved in a situation like this?"

"That's different," he repeated. Her eyes narrowed as she slid back onto her hands and she surveyed him.

"How is that different?" she challenged. "Levi's my brother, Don, it's my business. If he needs my help, you can bet your ass that I'm gonna give it to him."

"It's different because it'll be this entire mess and the line between cop and sister is going to get really blurry really fast. He'll set his sights on you and he won't stop until you've backed off. And I know you well enough to know that if you're backed into a corner, you'll throw it back twice as hard. When it comes to your family, you're above the law," he finally said.

"Don't think I don't understand what it's like to have a sibling in trouble. My sister Sam? She's been in lockup so many times that she has her own little place. You come from a Mafia background and you're trying to make up for being a cop by being three times as loyal to your family. But honestly? There are some things that are out of your hands and this is one of them."

"I won't call him, but I know he'll find a way to contact me to get to Levi. If that happens, I'm going after Diego Vasquez with everything in my arsenal. I may not be Mafia, but my retaliation is three times worse than any family can throw," she said in a low voice. Isabella knew Don was trying to protect her and he had good points. This wasn't her fight. But if Diego Vasquez went after her, she was going to show him what she was made of.

* * *

><p>The prospect of his girlfriend getting involved in her brother's business was terrifying. He looked over at Isabella. Her petite body was curled up in a ball on her side, her eyes closed and her dark hair spilled across her face. Even in sleep, she looked thoroughly pissed off. Don Flack couldn't help but wonder if she was going to do something stupid. He had no doubt in his mind that this 'Diego Vasquez' man would try and contact her if it meant getting to Levi. How the hell had his ex-partner gone from being groomed for the top position in Homicide to getting intimidated by a gang member?<p>

The sound of his phone ringing broke his train of thought and he flipped open the lid on his phone, pressing it to his ear. "Hey, Messer."

_"Flack, we have a problem," Danny said, his voice full of concern._

"You're telling me," Don muttered.

_"The FBI is taking Isabella's case. They want full credit for the investigation and they're not accepting NYPD help," Danny said. _Another thing for Isabella to get pissed off about.

"Man, Izzy's gonna get pissed off at that," Don said. Danny chuckled over the line.

_"Logan's already in a rage over this. This is his and Izzy's case. Even worse, they want all of the evidence, including Isabella's hard drive. When Mac said no, they threatened to get a warrant, but it's not Mac's hard drive to give," he replied. _Don winced at the words. If there was a risk for Isabella's blood pressure to rise even more, there it was.

* * *

><p>Isabella stretched in bed, letting out a yawn. She turned her head to look at the sleeping form of her boyfriend and snuggled closer, careful to avoid the bandage. He was still insecure about the injury and refused to let her help him care for it. Her eyes fell to the horseshoe-shaped scar on her belly and abdomen, closing her eyes tightly as the words from the doctors echoed in her head.<p>

_"More than likely, you'll never be able to have children. If you do conceive, it would be dangerous for you and the fetus. The chances of your baby being born normal are slim to none."_

She had never spoken of the reason for the scar and she refused to let anyone see it. It had happened on the job when she was seventeen and working on a neighbor's barn with a skittish Appaloosa colt. When the horse heard a gunshot, he had reared up and kicked backwards, nailing Isabella in the gut. She had flown backwards a good fifteen feet before hitting a wall. The wood had cracked and nearly broken under her weight. No one had found her for six hours. There had been internal bleeding and her reproductive organs had been traumatized. It seemed as though it was permanent damage. What if things turned serious? Would Don want a woman who might not be able to give him children?


	37. Girls' Night Out

**_A/N: I wanted to do a night out with Isabella and Lindsay. The links for the dresses is on my profile. I'm not moving my account until I finish this story, which won't be for a while. And this story will be finished before I move to my other account. I have gone through too much to just give it up now!_**

**_And besides...who doesn't love a jealous Don? ;D_**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: XD Thanks. I just hope I wasn't being too action-packed with this story. Don't worry, Don's on my to-do list, too ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>We're going out tonight to kick out every light<em>

_Take anything we want, drink everything in sight_

_We're going till the world stops turning_

_While we burn it to the ground tonight_

Nickelback — Burn It To The Ground

* * *

><p>There was no getting the case back. Isabella grimaced as she raked a brush through her hair. Fortunately, Lindsay had volunteered to go out with her for a girls' night. Her words were: "Get crazy and let loose."<p>

That was just fine with Isabella. She had invited Logan along, as it was his grudging last night in town. He had to leave for Wilmington the day after tomorrow and wanted to see Isabella for one last time. Lindsay still had the key to Isabella's apartment after the run she had made a month ago, and she hadn't cared.

Isabella frowned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Even on nights out, she hated wearing dresses or skirts. "Here, you need help?"

Isabella turned around and saw Lindsay. She wore a simple black dress, the shape of it hanging over her petite frame with her hair pulled back. She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

"No offense, Montana, but that dress sucks," she said simply. Lindsay raised an eyebrow.

"It's all I have that's appropriate for this kind of outing," she replied. Isabella shook her head again and stood in her closet.

"C'mon, we're going to a damn club, Linds. You need to show some skin," she informed her as she rifled through her closet. When her eyes settled on a black dress, she pulled it out. It was one of Isabella's very favorites. A black halter minidress with a deep V-neck, beaded neckline, and a mesh cut-out back. Isabella handed it to her friend and pulled her hair out of the elastic, shaking out the messy brown tresses.

"Isn't that a bit...much?" Lindsay asked tentatively. Isabella beamed a bright smile at her friend.

"Trust me. It's just enough," she assured her. Lindsay bit her lip, her big brown eyes meeting Isabella's blue.

"Do you have anything more...conservative?" she asked shyly. Isabella finally grinned and popped her head back into her closet. Something that was simple, classy, and sexy. The majority of her dress collection.

"How opposed are you to white?" she asked, finally selecting a white dress. It covered more than the little black dress, giving it style and sophistication. Lindsay did have great skin.

"I like it okay," Lindsay replied. Isabella shimmied her way out of her closet, holding the dress in the air. When she presented it to Lindsay, the woman's eyes widened. "Will I be able to pull that off?"

"You know what the main idea to looking good is, Lindsay? Confidence. If you have confidence, you could wear just about anything," she declared. Looking at Lindsay up and down, she could see that they were roughly around the same size. "This dress will really make you stand out."

"Then you wear the black dress. I can pull off one strap, but I can't pull off halter," Lindsay said. Isabella grinned at her new friend before standing behind a changing screen. It had been a recent gift from her cousin, Emory. Emory Sanchez was a language teacher in Japan and had sent Isabella the screen as a birthday present.

"That is a really pretty screen," Lindsay commented.

"My cousin Emory sent the screen as a present. It comes in handy sometimes," Isabella replied as she shimmied out of her shorts and stripped her tank top off. She unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the floor with the rest of her clothing. After she stepped into the dress and zipped it up, she pulled the skirt down to end mid-thigh. She pulled the halter around her neck and smoothed it out. The material felt luxurious against her skin and she let her dark hair out of its ponytail. The dress hugged her curves, emphasizing and exaggerating each line of her body.

"You ready, Isabella?" Lindsay called. Isabella pushed aside the screen and examined Lindsay. The dress was a perfect fit on her body, the color a sharp contrast against her tanned skin, making her appear more sophisticated. The single strap was feminine and gave her an edge, the hemline ending at mid-thigh, showcasing Lindsay's long-for-her-height legs.

"I knew it. That dress looks perfect on you," Isabella crowed. Lindsay smiled and examined her.

"We look good," she commented and the two women posed in front of the mirror.

* * *

><p>When they arrived to the club, aptly named 'Sashay', Isabella tilted her head. This club was famous for its 'jack of all trade' jukebox. Her body hummed with the beat of Nelly's song 'Hot In Herre'. Her stiletto heels clicked on the tile floor as she wound her way to the bar. Was she too old to be in a place like this? She shuddered at the thought. Twenty-six was not too old. Not in anyone's world.<p>

The two women each had a tequila shot before dancing wildly to the beat of Fergie's 'London Bridge'. Screw work. Screw 'em all. Right now, she wanted to have fun. After a minute, her shoes were killing her feet and she hooked them in her fingers as she continued to dance.

"Hey, baby, I've never seen you around here before," a male voice murmured in her ear. Isabella turned around and gave him a smile.

"That's because I've never come here before," she replied. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Lindsay writhing along with the music. Clubs in New York were far too young for her, Isabella preferred bars.

"What's your name, delicate?" the guy asked. He was a few inches taller than her without her heels on with scruffy light brown hair and a long beard. He looked old enough to be older brother. Isabella turned her attention away from him.

"I have a boyfriend and I don't know you," she replied coolly before walking away.

"That name's a mouthful," his voice came behind her. Isabella pursed her lips before looking for her badge in her handbag. She always made sure she kept her badge on her at all times. When she flashed it to him, the man finally backed off. With a self-satisfied smirk, she sashayed her way over to Lindsay.

"Told you this place is awesome!" she yelled over the music. The two women danced together. Unfortunately, Isabella could sing better than she could dance so it was like someone had thrown hot coffee onto them. After they collapsed onto stools, they were laughing hysterically.

"I haven't been to a place like this before!" Lindsay yelled at her. Isabella nodded enthusiastically.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested. Lindsay nodded in agreement and they left the club.

* * *

><p>Don was thankful for a guys' night out. He had Danny and Logan, having invited him along for Isabella's sake. He was leaving in a couple of days and had hardly seen the outside of the lab. After a couple of games of pool, Don knew he had to watch out for Logan. The man was a complete pool shark, each shot precise and carefully aimed. As they passed a group of guys, one couldn't help but overhear their conversation.<p>

"Man, those chicks knew how to party. They were hot, but they sure knew how to tease a guy," one commented.

"It just sucked that the dark-haired one had a boyfriend. She looked like she knew how to show a guy a real good time," another replied. As they passed by a bar, there were shouts and cheers coming from inside.

"Whoo! Work it, ladies!" one man yelled. Don poked his head into the bar and saw a swarm of men around a table with two women on it, dancing like there was no tomorrow. It hit him that these were the women the group had been talking about. When the dark-haired one slung her hair out of her face, he recognized Isabella. That meant the other woman was Lindsay Monroe. Don turned and looked at Danny and Logan.

"Should we get them?" he asked. Silently, both men nodded and they shoved their way in. "NYPD, nothing to see here!"

Men parted the crowd and Don looked up at Isabella. "You're coming with me."

Isabella shook her head. "No, I'm having fun," she argued, planting her hands on her hips. Don chuckled.

"I could do this the easy way or the hard way, Lionheart," he informed her. When someone reached up to touch her, that was the final straw. Don twisted his arm around and pinned the man to the table.

"Don't you even _dare_," he growled, shoving him away.

"Where the hell do you get off thinking you can boss me around?" Isabella demanded, narrowing her eyes down at him.

"Please get down from the table?" he requested. With a frustrated growl, she lobbed her shoes in her hand and hopped down, the skirt flowing upwards a bit. From the look in her eyes, he could see she had had a few too many. Out of nowhere, she turned around and shoved the guy down.

"Do you not get it?" Don snarled at him. The man had to be a few inches taller than Isabella, with greasy blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

"I'm entitled to something, I've been buying these two drinks all night," the man smirked. Rage welled up inside of Don.

"You're entitled to nothing," he spat. He looked at Lindsay and Isabella, who stood wide-eyed at his rage. "These two are leaving now."

"The hell they are!" the man argued. It was clear he was on something as well, more than alcohol by the smell of it. The stench radiating from his clothes told Don he had been smoking marijuana. When his hand slipped onto Isabella's back, Don lost it.

His fist collided with the man's jaw and he tumbled backwards. His cold blue eyes settled on his girlfriend and her partner in crime. "We're leaving, ladies."

* * *

><p>The piercing sunlight caused Isabella to groan and cover her eyes with a pillow. After a minute, she raised her head to take in her surroundings. Wait a minute...<p>

This wasn't her bedroom. She shot up in bed, and let out another groan. Her head was pounding like construction workers had gone to town with jackhammers and the sunlight wasn't doing her any favors as well. Isabella's hands groped along the bed, hoping like hell that she hadn't done anything stupid. Like going home with a stranger.

She looked down and saw she had a man's T-shirt on. An AC/DC T-shirt. As she grew more awake, she recognized the room. It was Don's. Isabella flopped back onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief. Now, her tongue was killing her...

She ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and her eyes bulged. Holy fucking shit, Batman...

After a wild night on the town...Isabella Rae Pacino had gotten a drunk tongue piercing.


	38. Hungover

**_A/N: Ha ha, yes...Isabella got a drunken tongue piercing! That has been in store for a long time, my friends! And I try to go along with the show as much as I can, which means trends from 2006 and 2007 follow! That was when skinny jeans first made their comeback..._**

**_RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal: She always has fun ;D I don't think Don would be that mad at her...the situation is too funny!_**

**_Shu: I was laughing while writing that part, too! I was stuck at how to end the chapter, and I'm like: O: If I was drunk, what type of piercing would I get? Then it hit me, and I wrote about the tongue piercing XD_**

* * *

><p><em>Last night, I got served a little bit too much<em>

_Of that poison, baby_

_Last night, I did things I'm not proud of _

_And I got a little crazy_

Carrie Underwood — Last Name

* * *

><p>As Isabella stood in front of the mirror in Don's bedroom, her eyes fixed on the tongue piercing. Luckily, it wasn't on the tip of her tongue, it was further near the back. It was a dumbbell piercing, in more ways than it's intended term. The head of the piercing was black with a little pink skull on it and she had to admit, it was kind of cute. Despite the throbbing pain in her tongue and the fact she wouldn't be able to talk normally for a while, of course. Once it healed, it would just be an unhappy memory.<p>

Her head pounded and she felt something stinging on her back. What the hell? After lifting up the back of the shirt, she saw a small string of numbers on her back. 9856. That wasn't her badge number. Her eyes bulged as she slowly lowered the shirt. Whose badge number was that? She looked around for her dress on the floor and saw it draped over the chair he had in his room. She raked a hand through her hair in relief and scooped it up into her arms. She would return the shirt later today, she decided. After she crept out of his room, hoping to spare the humiliation, she looked around the living room. He was sprawled out on his couch, his eyes on the TV. He was catching the highlights of the Rangers game last night.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," he greeted her. Isabella smiled in response.

"Hi," she replied, her voice coming out like a squeak. He turned his attention to her, his eyebrow raised in pure amusement. Holy shit...

What if the numbers were his badge number?

The humiliation would have been too great for her to ever face him again. Time to find out...

"Hey, Don...just for laughs," she started to say, cringing when she lisped 'laughs'. "What's your badge number?"

His other eyebrow shot up. "8571," he replied. Was it bad that she nearly fell to the floor in relief? But that just crossed him out of the list. Who had that badge number. "Why?"

"If you laugh, I will kill you," she told him and lifted the back of the shirt to show him the tattoo. He let out a chortle and immediately stopped.

"Don't worry, I saw that last night. At least it's not another man's badge number on your back. It's Lindsay's," he assured her. Her eyes widened until she thought they were going to pop out of her skull.

"Are you sure?" she asked, cringing at the lisp. He nodded. Finally, she let out a giggle. Only she of all people would get a drunken tattoo of a woman's badge number on her back.

"Wait, open your mouth," he told her, standing up. She shut her mouth and shook her head. "I won't laugh, I promise."

Finally, she stuck her tongue out of her mouth, stopping at the piercing. When he gently tugged on it, the ring caught her teeth and she let out a squeak of pain. When he grabbed the couch to contain his laughter, she slapped his arm.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" she complained. He kissed the top of her head, his laughs dying down.

"I'm sorry, it's just something I wasn't prepared for," he said. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, not ready to forgive.

"Well, now that you've seen me drunk..." she trailed off. He looked down at her, concern in his eyes.

"Do you drink like that often?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Not often. I don't really drink anymore and that's why. I do all sorts of stupid stuff," she replied. He kissed her forehead and she rested her cheek on his chest. "When did you manage to track me down?"

"When you were dancing on a table and I had to punch out a guy trying to pimp you out," he replied. Isabella cringed again, covering her eyes. God, she was so hungover.

"So, where's Lindsay?" she asked. He chuckled wryly, rubbing her back. She let out another squeak as his hand came in contact with the tattoo.

"She's at Danny's," he replied. With a smile, he continued. "And she has your badge number tattooed on her back." Despite the situation, Isabella let out a giggle.

"Man, the things that go through drunk me's mind," she said. All sorts of things went through her mind when she was...inebriated.

"Danny, Logan, and I heard about you and her through your little fan club and we broke up the dance party in a bar. After we got you out of there, we knew we couldn't just leave you. So Danny took home Lindsay and I brought you here," he said.

"What time is it?" she asked. Her head was still throbbing and the sun still wasn't doing well for her. He looked over his shoulder.

"Eleven thirty," he replied. Her eyes widened and she shrank backwards as the light hurt her eyes. "You needed to sleep this off and I don't envy you the hangover you're probably experiencing."

"I'll go on back to my apartment and curl up on my couch now," she said. Right now, she needed half a case of water and vitamins. Her bed was definitely softer than that of her boyfriend's, which worked in her favor. It occurred to her then. Where did he sleep?

"Where did you sleep last night?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. She followed his gaze to the couch. Guilt grumbled in her belly as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Some nights, I sleep out here anyways. No big deal," he assured her.

* * *

><p>Isabella looked around in her fridge for juice after downing three bottles of water. Research on the internet informed her that juice, water, weak caffeine, and absolutely no pain reliever were the cure. Plus a ton of sleep. She held an ice pack to her forehead and walked through her apartment. The sound of her house phone ringing caused her to groan out in frustration.<p>

"Hello?" she asked, irritated after snatching up the phone from the cradle.

_"Hello. This is a recording..." an operator said. _

"Yo no hoblo Inglés!" she said before slamming her phone down. She really needed a shower. She smelled like cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat. After hanging up her dress in her closet, she walked into her bathroom with a towel draped over her arm. The feel of the water calmed her heart rate down, the steam opening her sinuses and she felt her headache alleviate. The air outside was cooling down, which she loved. Soon, it would be autumn. Her favorite season. It embraced the shade of spring, the early bite of winter, plus the sun of summer. Autumn and winter were by far her favorite seasons. Isabella dried off her hair after the shower and examined the tattoo, shaking her head. After cleaning it with mild soap and lukewarm water, she dried it off and fixed the back of her bra over it. She always took pride in her undergarments...though, some were a little childish for her age. Her assortment always seemed to include cartoon characters. Right now, however, she wore a navy blue bra with Snoopy on the cup.

After pulling her black tank top over her head, she walked out of her bathroom and into her bedroom for clothing. Isabella rifled through her jeans drawer, finally selecting a pair of skinny jeans. These were a comeback trend, one she found comfortable.

She picked up her cellphone and dialed Lindsay's number.

_"Monroe," Lindsay's groan came over the line. _Isabella felt her grin stretch across her face.

"Morning, Shirley," she chirped.

_"You, my friend, are way too cheerful this morning," Lindsay complained. _

"Yeah, except that it's noon and you've got roots planted in Danny's bed," Isabella replied, examining her nails. With her hangover now under control, she felt incredible. Soon, though, it would be time to treat her unwanted piercing with alcohol-free mouthwash. Earlier on, she had tried to swish her mouth out with Listerine and cried out in pain.

_"Oh man, it's noon? I gotta go!" Lindsay squeaked. _

"Get a cab to my place. You can borrow clothes and grab a shower so your uncle doesn't see you," Isabella assured her. When she became friends with Lindsay Monroe, she didn't know. The Montanan native was easy to befriend, she supposed.

_"You're a lifesaver," Lindsay sighed. _The line disconnected and Isabella rifled through her drawers. Aiden had weighed a bit more than Isabella, so it wasn't often that the women could swap clothes. She chuckled and shook her head. The sound of her phone ringing caught her attention and she looked at the screen. A Wilmington number flashed on the screen and she answered it tentatively.

"Detective Pacino," she addressed the caller.

_"Oh, I know who you are," a gravelly male voice echoed over the other line. "Second generation cop, third grade Crime Scene Investigator with the New York Crime Lab. Ties to Hombre Lama, the Italian Mafia of Brooklyn. Quite a looker, too..."_

Isabella knew without asking for the caller's identity that this was Diego Vasquez. And she was now involved.


	39. Family Helping Family

**_A/N: OOOO: Now, for more drama..._**

* * *

><p><em>You always swore that I was wrong<em>

_Not again_

_No taste for the crow you feed me_

_Not again_

_It's not a matter of if I care_

_Not again_

_What an intricate web you're weaving_

_Again and again_

Staind — Not Again

* * *

><p>"I want you to leave my brother alone, Vasquez, or you'll have more to deal with than just the wrath of him," Isabella snapped.<p>

_"I'll make him back off another way...I wonder how he would feel to know his precious little sister was hurt in some way," _Diego mused. Rage welled up inside of her and she had to hold onto the edge of her dresser to keep from snarling her next words.

"Do what you want to me, I don't give a damn. If you so much as touch my brother again, I will be on the red-eye to Wilmington to dispose of you in the only way us gang members know how," she hissed.

_"He touched what was rightfully mine. Armando Pacino needs to reap what he has sown," he replied coolly. _

"She's not yours, Diego. Lacey Fuentes isn't some piece of real estate you can own," she said, trying to keep the anger from choking her. This man was threatening her and her family. This was now personal. "And if you come to New York to pick a fight, I'll call your bluff."

_"Bluffs are for the weak, little girl," Diego sneered. "I'd be happy to see if you would follow through on your threat."_

Isabella let out a haughty laugh. "Oh no, you misunderstand me. I don't make threats. Little boys with little dicks make threats, I make promises that I intend to keep. So shut up and listen carefully so I might not have to repeat these words and dumb them down for your microscopic little brain," she said, her words forming into a snarl.

"If you mess Levi or Lacey, I will track you down like a bloodhound. When I'm done with you, you will be begging me to end your life, because Hombre Lama's motto is: per essere di sempre di fronte alla morte. Translated, it's "Shadow's Blade: To always be facing death." And you will regret ever laying your eyes, let alone your hands on a woman."

Diego's low chuckle on the other end chilled Isabella to the bone and she had to take deep breaths away from the phone in order not to show it.

_"This ain't your war, sweetheart. Be a good little woman and stay out of it." _

"It became my war when you beat up my brother," Isabella snapped.

* * *

><p>Isabella sat on Logan's hotel bed with her legs curled up to her chest.<p>

"Sometimes real life doesn't have happy endings, Izzy Bells," Logan reminded her. She looked woefully up at her best friend and sighed wistfully.

"Can't life be fair to Levi just this once? He's had a bum-wrap going for him his entire life, he really deserves to be happy. I know my brother, he's been in love with her since middle school. They kept in contact through letters and phone calls when he moved back to New York and I know she loves him, too. I can feel it with everything in me," she said. He grinned down at her.

"Show me your tongue piercing again. It's fucking hilarious," he requested. She stuck her tongue out at him to reveal the ring. "Anyways, continue."

"So, he told me it wasn't my war and I told him it was my war when he beat up my brother," she finished with a sigh. Logan nodded thoughtfully and sat down next to her.

"Want me to kick his ass when I get home?" he asked. She shook her head.

"This guy is SBM, Lobo. I don't want you involved in this," she replied. Funny...she had rebelled against her boyfriend's wishes and was now involved. What was going to keep Logan from doing the same?

"SBM thinks they're above the law. Get me and OC in the same room with him and we'll throw a scare into him," he said with a scoff.

"They're not above attacking and killing cops. The minute he steps into New York City, he's SB's problem," she replied. "I just hope it won't turn into a gang war. The minute anyone steps onto SB turf, they will retaliate."

* * *

><p>The sound of the door knocking cut through the silence in Isabella's apartment and she crossed the room to open the door. Glancing through the peephole, she saw a little girl and opened the door.<p>

Standing on the other side of the door was a young Hispanic woman with a little girl. The woman had dark hair, cropped close to her face, illuminating her big cocoa-brown eyes. What had caught Isabella's attention was the bruises and cuts on the woman's face. She immediately recognized Lacey Fuentes.

"I had to get out of Wilmington, Isabella. Diego was going to hurt my daughter," Lacey said tearfully. Isabella immediately drew the older woman into a hug.

"You're safe here, Lace," she told her and looked down at the little girl, getting down to her level. "What's your name, sweetie?"

The little girl was identical to Lacey, but her eyes were darker. Like dark chocolate. Immediately, Isabella knew it was Levi's daughter. "I'm Lily. Lily Angelica Fuentes," the little girl replied with a shy smile. She was missing a tooth on her lower set of teeth and had the most adorable smile, dimples and all.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Lily. My name is Isabella and I'm a very good friend of your mother's," Isabella said, shaking the little hand. She could feel a warmth coming over her as she looked at her niece. Lily was a precious girl, with long jet-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a pink flowered dress and held a stuffed black cat in her arms.

"Lily, this is Daddy's sister," Lacey informed her daughter. Lily smiled and threw her arms around her aunt's neck. Isabella fell onto her backside in surprise and hugged the little girl back.

"How about we get you guys inside? I'll get a movie on for Lily and we can talk," Isabella suggested, standing up with the little girl in her arms. "And how old are you, princess?"

Lily's smile was excited as she curled her arms around her aunt. It was difficult to not get attached to the endearing child. "I'm four and I'll be five in three months!"

Isabella returned her niece's smile and helped Lacey bring their bags into the apartment. "That's such a special age! Looks like we're going to have to do something big for this special number, aren't we?"

"Yeah!" Lily squealed. Isabella set the little girl onto the couch and turned on the television.

"Do you like High School Musical?" she asked her niece. Lily bobbed her head excitedly in response.

"She loves High School Musical. I swear, she can sing all the songs and do the dances better than the cast," Lacey replied with a tired smile.

"That's good, because I'm a fan of it myself. Are either of you thirsty? I have a ton of drinks in the fridge, from water to cream soda," Isabella offered. She was relieved that Lacey had gotten out of North Carolina and even more relieved that her child had gotten out of the situation as well.

"Water will do, thank you," Lacey replied and turned to Lily. "Would you like a drink, Lily?"

Lily shook her head. "No thanks, Mama. I'm good," she replied, her eyes glued to the television.

Isabella gestured Lacey into the kitchen to talk.

"Izzy, I'm so sorry to drop in like this with no warning and bringing a child..." Lacey trailed off. Isabella held up her hand to silence the older woman.

"Don't be apologizing, I'm glad you came here. I'm even happier that you got your child out of that situation. You of all people know you're more than welcome in my home," she assured her. Up until a few minutes ago, she didn't even know Lacey had a child, let alone have Levi's child.

"It has to be such an intrusion," Lacey protested. Isabella shook her head firmly.

"I have enough room to have you stay here. I have a guest room and a comfortable pull-out couch for you both to sleep in, unless you want Lily to sleep in the guest room with you. My only thing is that I'm not here much, so it would just be you two here. I will leave you my work cellphone number in case of an emergency and you have my personal cellphone number," she replied. She turned around and rifled through drawers for a first-aid kit for Lacey's split lip.

"Thank you, Izzy. For taking in me and my daughter," Lacey said softly. Isabella looked up at her and smiled widely.

"Hey, you're my future sister-in-law. Family helps family in more ways than one," she replied. Her blue-flame eyes turned thoughtful as they settled upon her niece, humming along to 'Start of Something New.' "And I'm more than happy to see my new niece."

"Levi showed her pictures of you and told her stories. She thinks you're the best thing next to Nutella," Lacey replied. Isabella let out a soft laugh.

"Boy, we really are alike, aren't we?"


	40. Safe Place

**_A/N: And there's a niece *less than three* AND OMG 100 REVIEWS 8D You guys rock my socks _**

**_Shu: Because it was his way of getting help from Isabella without letting her know all the facts. I'll explain later on xD_**

* * *

><p><em>I've created the sound of madness<em>

_Wrote the book on pain_

_Somehow, I'm still here to explain_

_That the darkest hour never comes in the night_

_You can sleep with a gun_

_When are you gonna wake up and fight for yourself?_

Shinedown — Sound of Madness

* * *

><p>Isabella drummed her fingers on the light table as she looked up at the clock in the lab. Luckily, she was between cases. As soon as shift was up, she was going to call Levi and demand to know why he had kept her niece from her and the rest of their family.<p>

"Isabella, you have a visitor," Adam called as he walked by. Isabella walked out of the lab and looked around by the elevators where Armando Pacino the Second stood. Her father.

She felt a smile stretch on her face until she saw the utter seriousness on her father's face.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked as she walked up to him. His deep brown eyes settled on her as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not here. How long until you go on break?" he asked. She looked at the clock again. Noon.

"Thirty minutes," she replied curiously. Something was definitely on Armando's mind as he looked her over coolly.

"We'll have lunch," he told her. Isabella fiddled with the ends of her thin sweater, her eyes meeting her father's.

"It's Levi," she stated. Armando flicked his dark gaze around the room before surveying her.

"Not here, Isabella. We will talk when it's safe," he replied. His gruff tone invited no argument. She felt uneasy standing next to her father and she could tell it was no slumber party for him either. He was an NYPD legend alongside Don's father, but other cops made him nervous. Besides being an ex-cop, he was the successor of Nonno before he had married Marnie.

"That sounds sort of ominous," she muttered under her breath. Isabella gestured to her father to wait there. "I'm going to go hang up my lab coat and double-check a few things and I'll be ready."

After slinging up her lab coat onto the rack, she pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and the petite CSI's eyes met those of Danny.

"Hey, can I talk to you really quick?" he asked, his eyes unsure. Isabella looked over her shoulder and pursed her lips. Her father was one who did not like to be kept waiting.

"What time do you get off? Daddy sort of claimed me for lunch," she said, her blue-flame eyes apologetic. Not like she would be able to eat much anyways, she had her tongue piercing to thank for that. Danny followed her gaze and nodded to the tall man.

"Sure, I'll see you then," he replied. She gave him a quick hug before walking into Mac's office.

"Hey, Mac, I'm heading on out to lunch. I'll be back in an hour," she told her boss. Isabella had decided to wait to tell people about the predicament Levi was in until she thought of a contingency plan. Hopefully, one that involved either handcuffs and a police car or a gun and a swan song.

"Alright, see you then," Mac replied. Isabella walked down the hall and saw Don talking to Armando.

"Daddy, are you ready to go?" she asked, looking at Armando. He nodded curtly and shook hands with Don.

"Nice to see you again," he told the younger man. She nodded to her boyfriend before following her father.

* * *

><p>"I take it you know of your brother's situation," Armando immediately said to her after they sat down at Bella Notte, the family's restaurant. Isabella nodded, leaning forward onto her elbows.<p>

"He informed me of it a few weeks ago. Lacey and her daughter showed up on my doorstep last week and I took them in," she replied, tearing off pieces of a bread-stick before popping a small piece of it into her mouth.

"You knew about Vasquez, didn't you," Armando stated. She nodded, meeting her father's angered gaze with her own. "He went against what I had told him to do and put you in danger."

"He needed my help, Daddy. I'm not turning my back on my brother," Isabella replied coolly. "And I have informants in the city. If anyone matching Diego Vasquez's description comes into the city, I'm the first to know. If he comes into the city, I can arrange police protection for me, Lacey, and Lily."

"The family can't protect you, Isabella. You're a cop. If he comes at you, you're on your own," he reminded her.

"I know that. I don't expect to be protected by the family. I expect to protect myself," she replied. He gave her a suspicious look, crossing his hands over his mouth and surveyed her.

"You do know that this has to remain of the utmost secrecy, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Absolutely no one else can know until the time is right."

"I haven't told anyone yet," she assured him. Her blue eyes grew thoughtful. "How long have you known about Lily?"

"For about two years. Armando wanted to get your help and hope your trigger-happy nature would come into play. The one where you shoot when asked without asking too many questions," Armando replied. Isabella chuckled and fiddled with the cloth napkin on her lap.

"I would do anything for our family. But I will not risk my job over this. The minute this gets too personal, I'm telling Mac," she confided.

"That's the best move you can make, honeybee," he replied. "But if worst comes, we have to get you, Lacey, and Lily out of the country. Diego left Wilmington this morning, presumably for New York."

Isabella was floored at the news. This was real. Her family was really in danger. There was nothing she could do about it.

"Is there any sort of safe place that you can think of?" Armando asked. She shrugged.

"Safe from the prying eyes of the Mafia? No idea," she replied. Her unfortunate family ties had constantly been called into question.

"This is one of those times where we have to let Hombre Lama take care of this. This is out of my hands and far out of your hands. This is your brother's fight and he has to do this alone," he told her.

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in her bedroom, stuffing as many clothes into a duffel bag as she could. Already Mac had been prepped on the situation and he had given her permission to go. Right now, she had to take Lacey and Lily to Tuscany, Italy, where Nonno and Nonna lived. They would be under express surveillance, with twenty-four hour bodyguards. No one could touch them.<p>

"We don't have much time, Lacey," Isabella said, walking out of her bedroom. She set her bag and suitcase on the floor of the living room and turned her head towards the knock of the door.

"Don't answer it," Lacey pleaded. Isabella shook her head and crossed the room to the door. Glancing in the peephole, she saw Don's face. She wrenched open the door and ushered him in, glancing behind him for any eyes.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked as soon as he walked in. Isabella pursed her lips and rested her hands onto her hips.

"I'm pretty sure," she responded. He chuckled wryly as his angered blue eyes came to rest on her.

"I told you to stay out of this. This isn't your fight and I didn't want you involved," he reminded her.

"I know you did, I'm not deaf," she snapped. "I stayed out of it, mind you. But I can't turn my back on blood." Her eyes settled on Lacey and Lily. He followed her gaze and his eyes widened.

"Are they..." he trailed off. Isabella nodded and stepped closer to the frightened Hispanic woman and her child.

"This is Lacey Fuentes and her daughter, Lily Fuentes," she introduced them. Her eyes met his. "Lily is my niece."

There was genuine surprise on his face as he stepped closer.

"Lacey, this is Detective Don Flack, Levi's ex-partner," Isabella said. Lacey shook his hand.

"I'm very sorry for the trouble I have caused," she apologized. Don shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. His eyes settled on Isabella again. "Where are you going?"

Isabella hesitated before answering. "I can't tell you that," she responded. "It's to keep you safe."

"Funny, that's what I meant when I said for you to not get involved. I'm involved with you, I'm automatically involved in this," he pointed out.

"Diego's on a plane to JFK right now, Donnie. First stop is going to be to look for people he knows that are close to Levi. You were his partner, you're most likely his second stop after here," she said. Her eyes searched his as she rested her hands on his shoulder. "This is very serious."

"When will you be back?" he asked, his hands sliding to rest on her waist. Her blue-flame eyes grew soft as she bit her lip.

"As soon as possible," she assured him. "Right now, we want Lacey and Lily to be safe and settled in."


	41. Italy

**_A/N: UGHHH I had almost finished this, but one wrong keystroke completely deleted it! DDDDDDD I am so pissed off now! Can I at least have some more reviews? D: And anyways, in this, Isabella's grandmother is referred to as 'Nonna', as well as Armando Pacino the First being called 'Nonno.' That being, because Isabella was named after her grandmother, and it would be very confusing! And I've picked up writing on the show again...but it starts back up while Isabella's in Tuscany xD_**

**_Shu: Ha ha, yeah! She does not like to be kept in the dark, but she would indeed do anything for her family! Izzy's trying to wrap her head around it herself!_**

* * *

><p><em>So much, so young I've faced on my own<em>

_Walls I built up became my home_

_I'm strong and I'm sure there's a fire in us_

_Sweet love, so pure_

_I catch my breath with just one beating heart_

_And I brace myself, please don't tear this apart_

Christina Aguilera — Bound To You

* * *

><p>Isabella stretched in bed on her stomach, looking up at Don. Her body currently felt like it had been replaced with jelly, and she had absolutely no intention of getting up anytime soon.<p>

"How the hell are we gonna be able to swing a week apart?" she mused rhetorically, propping her chin on his chest. He traced intricate designs on the bare skin of her back as he took a deep breath.

"One day at a time," he replied honestly. She was grateful he hadn't asked about the scar on her abdomen, he most likely didn't think she remembered how she received it.

"Hopefully, I won't have to be there for the full week. If anything, I should be back in a few days. I just want to see them get settled in and take a day to rest before going on a plane again," she sighed, curling her lip as she spoke the word 'plane.' God, she hated planes. They were full of rowdy conversationalists, she had always managed to get hit on by at least two old men, get her elbows knocked around by a beverage cart, and the movies were almost always cheesy love stories that could never happen in real life. To top it all off, it was always in a foreign language with English subtitles, or the other way around. Despite her intense fear of heights and flying.

"That's good," he commented as his fingers trailed up and down her spine. She sighed, wriggled upwards, and draped her arm over his torso. Isabella had always had very peculiar fears, which included heights, spiders, snakes, bats, clowns, porcelain dolls, puppets (with the exception of Jeff Dunham), squirrels, and garden gnomes.

"You got your thinkin' face on," he said, brushing her bangs out of her face. She submitted a chuckle and shrugged.

"Worried mostly, about flying. I've never exactly been a jet-setter," she replied. He raised his eyebrow.

"Says the woman who's been in and out of the country a couple of times," he said. She rolled her eyes and rested her head on his bare shoulder. He had ignited the conversation post-sex, asking the very same question she had: How the hell were they going to handle being away from each other for a week, possibly more? She had answered: One day at a time.

"Yeah, but I'm still afraid of heights and flying," she admitted. He tilted her chin forward to look at her, his blue eyes confused.

"How can you be a cop and be afraid of heights?" he queried. She shrugged again and looked away, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

"I'm fine as long as the structure's stable. But if I look straight ahead or down, I'm screwed," she answered. Isabella knew she was absolutely crazy about this man, there was no denying it. Nearly five months together, he still made her heart skip more than a few beats. She had to stop herself before she fell hard and fast for Don. He had put up with a lot with her, she didn't want to stretch the limits.

* * *

><p>Don knew he was going to miss this woman like crazy. It had taken everything in him to let her leave, because she felt she was doing something for her family. Something that most family members wouldn't do. Like go to another <em>continent<em> to make sure two people were safe. To put her life on the line to protect these people, one she had only known for a week. Yet, they were so important. He was in awe of her selflessness. Not many people would do that without asking for a favor in return.

"I'll miss you," he told her from his doorway. A quick kiss passed between them as her hand went to his face, her thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone.

"I know, I'll miss you too," she replied, her soft Southern drawl oddly comforting to him.

"Be safe, Lionheart," he murmured to her, pressing his forehead against hers. Her gentle smile lit up her face as she nodded.

"You too," she replied.

* * *

><p>The long, torturous plane ride was worth it as Isabella's eyes settled on the night sky in Tuscany. She loved Italy, it would always hold a very special place in her heart. After she had graduated high school, she had spent the summer in Tuscany with her grandparents before moving onto Ireland. It was rustic, historic, and just about everything she could ever want. The sights were comforting, the sounds like the gentlest lullaby. But none of them held a candle to Nonna's cooking. The original Isabella Rossi-Pacino had a gift with food. Everything the woman touched in kitchen purified it, the taste of her food so incredible, Isabella would have flown to Massa-Carrara and back a thousand times over for one taste of her homemade pasta.<p>

"Isabella!" Nonna cried as she ran out of the rustic villa, her arms wide. She was a plump, petite Italian woman, with graying dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her skirts swished as she made her way towards her favorite granddaughter. Isabella hugged her tightly, her smile nearly making her cheeks cramp. Her Italian grandparents were indisputably her favorite. Nonno, a tall, thin man followed soon after.

"Nonno! Nonna! Come stai?" Isabella asked, examining her grandparents. Nonna's bright brown eyes smiled back at her granddaughter, her contagious excitement barely concealed.

[Grandfather! Grandmother! How are you?]

"Oh, come now, my love, we speak English!" Nonna scolded. She stepped up to face Lacey and Lily as she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. Nonna and Nonno had been married nearly sixty years, having married at a very young age. Nonno poked Isabella's side through her baggy button-down shirt.

"You're getting too skinny, Bella. You need to eat more, put more meat on your bones, yes?" he said. Isabella hugged her grandfather tightly, his smell of Old Spice and home cooking comforting her and erasing her fears, replacing them with security and safety. No one could touch her as long as she was with Nonno.

"You know I can't resist Nonna's cooking," she replied with a smile. Nonno cupped her face in his hands as he kissed both cheeks before kissing her forehead.

"Then you shall eat," he declared, gesturing her inside. Isabella helped carry in the luggage into the small house. It had two bedrooms and a lovely attic. The attic was her favorite room, with a window seat. From the window seat, the stars always seemed to brightly shine.

"I fixed up the attic nicely for you, Isabella," Nonna said as she helped pull suitcases in. They had agreed to look after Lacey and Lily until Levi came, however long that took.

"Oh, grazie, Nonna," Isabella replied with a happy sigh. Jet-lag was setting in and she felt wide awake. It was six o'clock in New York, but midnight in Massa-Carrara. Massa-Carrara was the birthplace of Hombre Lama and the hometown of Pacinos for generations, including her father and the current crop of the main family of Hombre Lama.

"I made your favorite gellato. After you all get settled in, I serve you some," Nonna offered. Isabella kissed her grandmother on both cheeks as she lugged her duffel bag up the steps. Hopefully, she would be able to call Mac and Don and let them know she was okay before calling her father.

A single bar allowed her to make the phone call. Of course, Mac would be the first call she made. He needed to know when she was returning.

_"Ciao, Isabella," Mac's amused voice came over the line. _Isabella laughed.

"Don't tell me you can speak Italian, too, Mac," she said. He let out a chuckle.

_"What part of Italy are you in, now that you're in a presumably secure location?" he asked._

"You're always so to the point. This is why I enjoy working for you," she joked. "I'm in Massa-Carrara in Tuscany. I've made it to my grandparents' house and I'll make sure Lacey and Lily are safe and secure before I make flight plans to go home."

_"Alright, we'll keep our eyes open for Diego Vasquez," he replied. _It meant a lot that the team was being vigilant for him. Levi had been just as much a part of their team as Don had been. He meant a great deal to all of them.

"Thanks. I'll see you as soon as I can," she told him.

_"It's midnight in Italy. You should try to get some sleep," he suggested. _

"Sometimes, the best advice is the advice you give yourself, Mac," she pointed out. "After I have some gellato and a cannoli, I'll be out like a light."

_"Be on your toes and we'll see you when you get back," Mac said. _Isabella felt a smile spread across her face.

"Sure thing. See you in a week or less," she replied and hung up. One call down, two to go. She dialed Don's number and felt her heartbeat quicken. He had picked up on the third ring and answered eagerly.

_"Miss me already?" _His gravelly Queens accent made her shiver as she laid down on the makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling.

"You know I do," she said, a hint of a pout in her voice. Damn, this bed really felt good.

_"How's Italy?" he asked. _He was hoping for the location she couldn't give him. Until Diego was incapacitated, her location was only informed to Mac and her father.

"Beautiful as always. It's funny, the sky here has all these little glittery dots Nonno calls stars. Weird, huh?" she joked. He let out a gasp.

_"I don't believe it. You'll have to take a picture of it to make me believe it," he told her. _Her smile grew wider as she took a deep breath.

"I will. I'll also take pictures of the amazing food here to torture you and Danny," she replied.

_"Mm, you torture me in other ways, Lionheart," he said. _She let out a gentle laugh.

"I have to call my dad and let him know we landed. I'll see if I can call you tomorrow, Donnie," she told him, her heart sinking in regret.

_"Alright, call me tomorrow afternoon, around ten my time," he said. _

"Sounds good," she replied and they said their goodbyes. Fatigue was starting to set in after she called her father. It was a quick phone call and she had to force herself to stay awake to eat the gellato. After snapping the photos, of course. The strawberry-cherry gellato was something to brag about, especially with the spritz sticks.

After she rested her head on the pillow, she felt herself sink into a deep sleep.


	42. News and Coming Home

**_A/N: And I figured out why my eye has been giving me so much trouble for the past few days...I have an ingrown eyelash. I cried when I had to fix it...then my mom gave me Nutella with strawberries. Man, almost seventeen years old and I still get happy when my mom gives me stuff xD _**

**_That reminds me...my birthday is a week from Sunday 8DDDD Can't wait!_**

**_Shu: I know, right? 8D Thanks!_**

**_Mrs Nick Byrne: Ha ha, no worries! I know all about school, I start on Tuesday! (Homeschooler here!) And don't worry, if inspiration comes to me, I'll write a sequel on my other account (Look up Lydiann Biohazard) and this account will go on hiatus. It's okay if you don't review every chapter, I know all about being busy _**

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes the rain will get you<em>

_Sometimes the sky will fall_

_The wind blows you backwards_

_And you feel so small_

_Sometimes a cloud will chase_

_Till you think the sun is gone_

_I guess that's just the storm before the calm_

Joanna Pacitti — Storm Before the Calm

* * *

><p>All of the weight Isabella had lost (thanks to her tongue ring) had been put back on because of her grandmother's cooking. It had been three days since she had landed in Italy and she had to admit, she liked being taken care of for once. Nonna had doted on them, it was clear that she had missed taking care of people.<p>

"Isabella, you look sad," Nonna commented, and sat down at the old wooden table. Isabella shook out her dark hair and let out a deep breath. She had received a call from Ian last night. He had decided he was moving to New York to be part of the NYPD. Apparently, he had been a uniform in Wilmington after she had transferred to New York. He was ready to take the detectives' exam and wanted to do it in New York. And her traitorous boyfriend had two slots open on his team and decided to take Ian aboard, along with some detective-hopeful from New Jersey. After the news had been broken to her last night, she had raged for a good three hours, ranting about how she had been the legitimate last to know about the career change.

"I'm not sad, I'm just hurt," she confided. She had been the last to know about her brother's career change. It hurt that her brother hadn't confided in her, like he didn't trust her judgement anymore.

"I know, Ian's new career change. That has to be hard," Nonna replied kindly, patting her hand. Isabella fixed her blue gaze on the etchings of the old mahogany table. Nonno had built the table when he and Nonna had first gotten married all those years ago, and the table stood strong.

"It's like I don't even know who my family is anymore," she confessed. Her entire world had been changed by her brothers: she was now an aunt, and the twin sister of a hopeful detective. It was stressful on her and she didn't know how much longer she had left before she burned out.

"Well, did you ever think that maybe they don't know who you are?" Nonna pointed out gently. Isabella's blue eyes met the warm cocoa brown of her grandmother's, the color so much like her father's and brothers'.

"I try my hardest to keep them in the loop. Every major thing that happens, I call them and tell them," she replied. "Sometimes, I work all night and can't talk every night."

"Perhaps this trip was just what you needed. To be away from the hustle and bustle of the city for awhile," Nonna suggested. Isabella rubbed her eyes, propping her chin on her hands.

"It's helped, that's for sure," she agreed. "Although, I'm not a fan of the circumstances."

"Well, it is what it is, Isabella," Nonna pointed out with a sigh. She patted her granddaughter's hand. "Things will get better. This is just one of those things."

"I know, but it feels like I just drop everything to help my family. I don't expect anything in return, I just do it," Isabella admitted.

"That's a wonderful trait, being selfless. Don't ever lose that," the elderly woman said. Age showed on her face and around her eyes, but her eyes blazed like an intense wildfire.

"I guess I live vicariously through others," Isabella murmured, her hand dropping to her abdomen. No signs of change in her condition. Doctors had said she would feel a difference, but her procreating days were numbered. It was time to face facts that she might never be able to have children.

"You mustn't worry about things you can't change. It will only make you bitter," Nonna said. The younger woman sighed deeply as she traced circles on the tabletop with her fingers.

"I know," Isabella responded. "But nothing makes me want something more than someone telling me I can't have it. For so long, I was just fine with the fact that I probably won't have kids, but lately, it just seems like that's not good enough."

* * *

><p>The news of Don's last session of physical therapy lightened her day, but she was still saddened. It was one of her down days, she supposed, but it was one of those things that was very hard to control.<p>

"Isabella, do you have everything?" Nonno asked, his head appearing over the trapdoor of the attic. She looked over her shoulder and nodded. Nonna had taken her out shopping to spend time with her and talk, and Isabella had had to buy another bag in order to put everything in.

"Yeah, Nonno, I do," she answered before standing up straight. She would miss her grandparents. She would miss their long talks, their lively banter. They still understood her better than most of the world.

"I wish you would visit more often, Isabella," Nonno said softly. "At times, it feels like our talks just aren't enough."

Isabella smiled wistfully at her grandfather before tying the laces of her Converses. She had gotten a decent amount of sun these past few days, her skin had gone from a fair tone to a golden tan. It had felt good to sun herself.

"I feel the same way, Nonno. I miss you and Nonna so much, I really do wish I could visit more often. Italy feels like my second home," she replied, kissing her grandfather's cheek. Looking around the attic, she took in the familiar sight one last time. The window was the first thing she would see when she poked her head through the trapdoor. The cot was in the corner alongside the window seat, a small nightstand next to the cot. It was a small space, but she had loved it growing up. The few times she had stayed with her grandparents, she had always slept in the attic.

"There are always openings with the crime lab here," Nonno offered quietly. She shook her head regretfully.

"Hombre Lama would always be brought up," she replied, biting her lip. The ache in her heart brought tears to her eyes as she felt her throat tighten. The goodbyes she always said to her family were always the hardest. She never knew when she would see them again, or if she would. This time, she was leaving her niece and her future sister-in-law. When it was safe, they were returning, but Wilmington would never be safe for them again.

"Essere sicuri, l'amore," he said, taking her bag.

[Be safe, love]

"Cercherò," she replied before slinging her other bag over her shoulder.

[I'll try]

* * *

><p>In the near week Isabella had been gone, Don felt himself growing more and more restless. Ian had brought her car up to New York, as a surprise for her. Her family had paid to fix it, in thanks of everything she had done. A new engine had been put in it, a new alternator had been put in. Don Flack would admit he wasn't an expert when it came to cars, but even he had to admit that the 1969 Chevy Camaro SS was a nice car. It was a sleek black color with leather interior. Levi had installed a new stereo for her, to thank her personally. He had apologized to her for bringing so much drama into her life. He knew she had a dog back home, a massive German Shepherd named Wrangler. Ian had brought the dog as well, wanting this to be a happy time for her.<p>

Don couldn't think of another family more dedicated to each other than this. The siblings cared deeply about each other and had proven that they would drop everything to make sure the others were okay. In his family, it was all about one-upping each other. Jason lived in Detroit and worked as the DA. Jared was Chief of Detectives in Chicago. Don had been intimidated into being in the NYPD like his old man. Don Senior had been disgruntled when his son had gotten to a higher rank than he had. All Don had to show for his life was his badge, his credentials, and his lifestyle. He didn't have the higher education his brothers had, he had the education he had received from growing up in Queens. He was Detective Donald Flack Jr, and that was good enough for him. It was good enough for the petite crime scene investigator that had stood by him. When Moran had tampered with evidence, she had gone up to him and told him she was sorry for the outcome.

_"Don, Mac sent me to get Moran." Isabella's voice came out of nowhere. His eyes settled on her and saw the sympathy in her eyes. Don didn't want her sympathy. He just didn't want this to be true, but it was. His training officer was guilty of tampering with evidence._

_"Were you close to your TO, shorty?" he asked bitterly. She chuckled wryly and shook her head._

_"I could be Chief of Detectives and he'd still call me 'shortcake'," she replied. His face hardened as he shook his head._

_"I just don't want it to be true," he admitted. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked up at her. Her blue-flame eyes shone with sadness for him under the thick shroud of her side-bangs._

_"None of us do," she assured him._


	43. I've Come Home

**_A/N: Alright! I'm happy today 8DDD and the little car discussion Danny and Isabella have is based off an episode of Reba 'The Big Fix-Up'. _**

* * *

><p><em>Little Miss Apprehensive<em>

_Said "Ooh, she fell in love."_

_What is this feeling taking over?_

_Feeling no one could open the door_

_Surprise, it's time to feel what's real_

Kelly Clarkson — Miss Independent

* * *

><p>After Isabella had gotten off the plane and through Customs, she had grabbed her luggage and went straight into the bathroom at the airport. Her baggy sweatpants and tank top went into a grocery bag, an ivory off-the shoulder mini-dress took its place. She let her hair down from its ponytail and raked a brush through, her bangs hanging in her eyes.<p>

"Nervous?" an elderly woman asked, her voice a soft, yet strong British accent. She was tall and plump, with silver hair and kind blue eyes peering back from her glasses. Isabella smiled shyly.

"A bit, yeah. I've been in Italy for the past week," she replied. The woman let out a knowing 'ah.'

"Italy. Such a beautiful country. It's always been my belief that every young woman should visit at least one foreign country in her lifetime," she said. Isabella let out a soft laugh.

"I've been there several times. I have family in Tuscany," she replied. The older woman patted her shoulder.

"Take care, lovey," she told her before walking out of the women's restroom. Isabella slid her brush back into her purse and slid the messenger bag over her shoulder. She replaced her flip-flops with the black ballet flats and walked out of the restroom with her two duffel bags.

She heard Ian before she saw him.

"Well, honeybee, you didn't have to dress up for me to come pick you up."

Isabella smirked and turned to meet her brother's gaze. She gave him a tight hug and he slid the duffel bags over his broad shoulders, suiting his six foot frame. He gave her a lazy grin, his dark eyes sparkling with happiness. How could she be mad at her younger brother when he smiled at her like that?

"You look completely bohemian, Izzy, I don't like it," Ian said, surveying her attire. Isabella's eyes rolled skywards as she moved her hair away from the back of her neck.

"I bought this in Italy. It was too warm for my jeans," she explained as they walked outside. Ian motioned for her to stay there for a moment. He jogged off the curb and disappeared into the seemingly endless sea of cars in the parking lot of JFK. Isabella fished her sunglasses out of her bag before sliding them onto her face. Much better. The oversize frames shrouded the rays of the sun and she slid her hair into a low ponytail, waiting for her brother to pull up.

After ten minutes (she checked her watch), she heard the low, rustic purr of an engine before she saw the car. _Her car. _She had to take off her sunglasses as her mouth fell open in surprise.

Her 1969 Chevy Camaro SS. With a completely restored engine, the alternator had gotten fixed, and hopefully, her heating and air conditioning. When her car pulled up to the curb, she let out a happy squeal.

"My car! You got it fixed!" she gasped. Her window was rolled down and her brother slid his aviator sunglasses down his face, onto his nose, to look at her.

"Well, don't just stand there. You wanna drive this bad boy?" he asked. She could feel her cheeks cramp with the width of her massive smile as she nodded eagerly. It had been years since she had driven her beloved car.

"How did you..." she trailed off. He held up his hand.

"A little help from some of your grease monkey friends, Levi, and 'Auto Repair for Dummies' brought it back to life," he explained. Her heart raced with excitement as he put the car in park. God, she had missed her car. "I also have a surprise for you at your place. I took the liberty of bringing some of your favorite stuff with you, because Levi wanted to thank you for doing all of this for him."

"He's most welcome! This is amazing!" she squealed as he held open the driver's side door for her. Her gaze dropped to the stereo he had installed and she traced it lovingly with her fingers. Her heart swelled in appreciation. Never in her life had she felt so appreciated by her family. Isabella gripped the stickshift and heard the rustic roar of the engine as she pressed on the gas pedal. She leaned over and kissed her brother's cheek. If this was his way of apologizing for not telling her anything in his life, he was surely forgiven.

"Emmett drove my new car up here, we're gonna have to race," he said. She rubbed the worn wood of the steering wheel under her hands and she closed her eyes. The scent of the pine air freshener filled her senses and it felt like she was a seventeen year old girl again. The one that had just finished restoring the old car back to its former glory. She could almost hear the jingle of the keys being dropped into her hands for the first time after she had bought it with the money she had saved.

_"Yep, this is a beaut. Not in running order yet, but she'll get there. You treat her right and proper, and you've got the most loyal thing next to your dog," Buddy Jenkins' gruff Southern drawl said as he placed the keys in her palm. One was to unlock the car, one was for the trunk, and the other for the ignition. Isabella surveyed the old junk car and pursed her lips. It was all she could afford for four hundred and fifty dollars, but she felt drawn towards the vehicle._

_"Will you help me restore it?" she asked as she trailed her fingers over the rusted body of her car. Her car. The words echoed in her head like the soft tune of her favorite song. _

_"Tell you what, shorty. You gimme the tools, a date, and a time, I'll come over and help you out," he replied. Her smile stretched across her face. It had a dented bumper, flat tires, banged-up hubcaps, rust all over the body of the car, a rubber band engine, and the stench of garbage and dust on the inside. She had no earthly idea how to drive a manual, but she knew she could learn._

_"Teach me how to drive it, will ya?" she asked. He patted her shoulder, a low chuckle shaking his old body. He had to be at least sixty years old, with a scruffy white beard and greasy silver hair sticking out in all directions from his trucker's hat. Buddy Jenkins was the best mechanic in town. He could take a worthless piece of junk and turn it into a sleek racing machine._

_"I'll do better than that. You'll be able to fix this thing up and drive it when I'm done with you," he replied._

Buddy had died three years after they had finished the project. Terminal lung cancer had claimed his life. He had been a gruff old man, with very little patience with anything, but he loved cars with a deep, fiery passion.

"Sure thing, Ian," she agreed. She leaned forward and kissed the steering wheel. Every time she was in the car, she could hear Buddy's gravelly voice telling her to slow down and not go so fast. It reminded her of Slinky from Toy Story. He would try to drive it for her, but she eventually got it. And now, she could drive a stickshift without hitching once. Flawlessly.

"Are you gonna drive your baby or not?" Ian asked. Isabella snapped out of her reverie and flipped on the radio. The opening guitar riff of "Smoke On The Water" by Deep Purple played through the speakers and she nearly laughed aloud. It was as if Buddy was saying _"Good job, shorty. This is your baby now." _"Smoke On The Water" had been his favorite song.

* * *

><p>Ian drove his cherry red 1965 Ford Mustang forward around the front of the lab and parked it. Danny let out a low whistle.<p>

"A 1966 Mustang," he commented. Isabella let out a cough.

"'65," she corrected. Danny looked over at her.

"I think I know a bit about cars, shorty," he told her, his tone condescending. She snorted. "This is a '66."

"Obviously, you can't tell the difference between a '65 and a '66. The grill is honeycombed, not multi-barred," she replied. She pointed to the front end of the car. Son of a bitch, she was right.

"And it has a 289, not a 260," she added. "And I'll bet you money that if you pop that hood, you're gonna find an alternator, not a direct-current generator."

Danny popped the hood and checked under it. He looked over at her and narrowed his eyes. "Flack, your girl's a know-it-all."

But the dual white racing stripe on the cherry red exterior wasn't what caught Isabella's attention. In the backseat, she saw a massive head pop up.

"Ian, is that who I think it is?" Isabella asked. At the sound of her voice, the head turned. It was her German Shepherd, Wrangler. Ian opened the car door. "Wrangler!"

The massive German Shepherd jumped out of the car, pelting straight for his mistress. Isabella bent down to the sidewalk, her arms wrapping around her dog's neck as she ruffled her fingers through his thick coat. He licked her face excitedly with his long pink tongue, his tail beating against her legs excitedly.

"Who's my good boy? I missed my good boy," she cooed as she rubbed his sides. He rolled onto his back and she scratched his stomach with both hands, cooing incoherently at the great canine. She had rescued him on a raid as a puppy, he had been chained to a doghouse. When she had gotten him out of there, he had looked like a skeleton with a pelt. His eyes had been sunken in and weighed thirty pounds as a seven month old puppy, when he should have weighed at least twice that.

"Look at that, he's missed you," Ian said. Isabella grinned as she continued to lavish attention on her dog. Of course Wrangler had missed her. She was the only human he completely and truly trusted. She could tell him to sit on a busy highway and he would obey. Because Isabella had rescued him and nursed him back to health. She had taken him away from those people and he trusted her completely.

"Of course he has," she crooned, rubbing his nose. Her hands were filthy now and she smelled like a dog, but she didn't care. Her life in New York was complete. She had Wrangler. When Don stepped closer, Wrangler pinned his ears flat against his head.

"Donnie, be careful. Wrangler's very protective of Isabella," Ian warned, putting out his arm to stop him. Wrangler looked up at Isabella for confirmation. If she trusted this man, then he was okay. Isabella silently nodded to Wrangler and he stuck his nose out.

"He's alright, Wrangler. Don't be rude to him," she chided. Don raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, until the great dog sat down between him and Isabella, looking up at him with inquisitive brown eyes.

"Get down to his level, Don. That shows respect to him, he was abused pretty badly when he was a puppy," she told him. Don crouched down, holding out his hand. Wrangler craned his neck towards the man, clearly sniffing him out. His tail wagged just a tiny bit. "Scratch his chin slowly," she instructed.

"I know how to pet a dog, Iz," he replied, but he complied. When Wrangler scooted his way closer to him, his tail wagged a bit harder. Isabella craned her neck in surprise. Wrangler never took to anyone quickly. Especially that quickly. Soon, Don was able to rub Wrangler's side and scratch his ears. Which, of course, made the dog love him that much more.

"They say dogs are the best judges of character," Ian muttered in her ear. Isabella felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched her dog play with her boyfriend.

* * *

><p>Don had never seen Isabella more relaxed. Ian was making her life easier by working with her. The two were a dynamic duo, and he was Gerard's favorite. He had a quietly inquisitive nature and looked at everything from every angle. He had good instincts as a cop. Don's new partner, Detective Jessica Angell seemed to get along well with everyone as well. She had fit in like a glove, as though she had worked there the whole time. No matter how angered with him Isabella had been in the beginning, he was glad he had chosen Ian Pacino and Jess Angell. They were a perfect fit for the team.<p>

"You look happy," Stella commented. Don raked a hand through his hair.

"Things are finally falling into place and getting back to normal. I'm just glad that Isabella's finally relaxed and warmed up to the idea that Ian works at the NYPD now. All that stress wasn't healthy for her," he replied. Stella smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"She's tough as nails, that one," she agreed. The techs had hit on Don on his first case back on scene and he had to run them off.

_"How many numbers did you get this time, Flack?" Lindsay asked playfully. He grinned back at her, giving her a wink._

_"I don't like where you're going with this, Monroe," he returned. Her look clearly said "Come on, we know better."_

_"Three," he finally admitted. Stella clapped him on the shoulder._

_"Everybody loves a hero," she said before walking off. _

_"Hey, Izzy's got some healthy competition, I'm just saying," he added before flipping open his memo book. Lindsay let out a laugh._

_"Yeah, but what's better? Adoring fans, or the woman caught in the blast with you?" she asked rhetorically. He chuckled._

_"The woman caught in the blast is one of my adoring fans, thank you," he fired back._


	44. Suspicions and Awkwardness

**_A/N: My updates might be few and far between...my brother bought World of Warcraft today and the only time I get to update now is at nighttime. If he uses said WoW game, I don't get to use the computer. Cross your fingers that I get my laptop cord fixed! If that happens, then I can write at night and post tomorrow! And I will post another chapter tonight, so keep your peepers open!  
><em>**

**_Shu: Ha ha, thanks!_**

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><p><em>Ooh, we gotta hold on<em>

_Ready or not_

_You live for the fight_

_When it's all that you've got_

Bon Jovi — Livin' On A Prayer

* * *

><p>While the rest of the team worked on a Greek mythology murder case, Isabella, Chey, and Sam all pulled together to solve the case of a murdered college professor at Columbia.<p>

The sound of her phone ringing cut through the silence of the Trace Analysis lab and she flipped it open.

"Hey Ian," she greeted her twin. Her brother seemed to be settling in well at the NYPD and she knew he was proud to be there. The three Pacino children were all cops now.

_"Hey, honeybee, do me a favor," Ian's hushed voice came over the line. _

"Ian, I told you, I'm not working your case, I can't get your results for you," she replied, cradling the phone between her face and her shoulder as she swabbed biological fluids from a bedsheet recovered from the victim's home.

_"That's not what I wanted to ask, but thanks," Ian said. _She could hear the conspiratorial sound in her brother's voice and she felt a bit uneasy.

"What is it?" she asked. Normally, she couldn't talk on the phone while she worked, but it was a quick call.

_"Call up Flack when you get the chance and call him 'bro'," he requested. _Her eyebrows rose in surprise then arched.

"Why?" she questioned uneasily. If it was to piss him off, she would have to answer no.

_"Just do it," he said and the line disconnected. _

Isabella shook her head and ran the DNA sample through CODIS. Well, that gave her time to kill...

The computer beeped less than five minutes later, showing that it was a contaminated sample. Isabella tilted her head. That was weird...

When she pulled up the sample, she saw it was a female family member of one of the members of the NYPD.

The member of the NYPD was Detective Donald Flack Jr.

* * *

><p>She ran the sample again, trying to override the system to run it again. It listed it as his sister. She knew he only had one sister. Samantha Flack.<p>

Oh boy...how was she going to break it to him that the evidence put his twenty-seven year old sister in bed with a forty-seven year old married college professor?

She had to talk to Samantha first, get her side of the story. Don was going to be livid, but he would find out when it was time. It was going to put a strain on their relationship, but the job came first. It was IAB's test to see if they could put their relationship aside for the good of a case.

"Oh boy," she sighed and looked up an address for Samantha. When she saw it was in Lower Manhattan, she printed the page and dialed Sam.

"Hey, Sam? Meet me outside of the lab. We've got something," she said before hanging up the phone.

Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest as they pulled up to the building. This promised to be awkward, but it was best to get it out of the way. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and got out of the car.

"This is going to be awkward," Sam muttered. It proved to be an awkward day. She was working a case with her ex-boyfriend to pick up her current boyfriend's sister.

"Yeah, you're telling me," she sighed and fixed her blazer. She scuffled her ballet flats, fixing the heel of it before walking into the building. Samantha lived on the first floor luckily, so it wasn't a far walk to 1B. Isabella reached out and knocked on the door.

"Samantha Flack? NYPD," she called. After a moment, locks were undone and the door opened. It was easy to see the resemblance between Don and Samantha as she stood in the doorway. They had the same ice-blue eyes, same jawline. Same dark hair.

"I'm Detective Isabella Pacino, this is Detective Sam Thomas," Isabella said, holding up her badge briefly. Samantha pursed her lips.

"Can I see your badge for a moment?" she asked. She had a thick Queens accent, yet another similarity between . She had every right to be suspicious, and it seemed growing up as the daughter and sister of cops taught her well. Isabella and Sam each held out their badges.

"What's this about?" Samantha asked. Isabella fished a picture of Professor Hardcastle out of her pocket and held it up to her.

"Do you know this man?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level. DNA didn't lie. If this woman tried to lie, she would be able to spot it immediately.

"No, I don't," Samantha replied, shaking her head with a frown. It was odd. Her eyes were level and her voice was clear.

"We found your DNA at his home," Isabella said carefully. What the hell? Was it a glitch? It couldn't be.

"I don't know how it got there, but I've never seen this man before," Samantha informed them.

"Where were you between the hours of six and nine last night?" Isabella asked. She had to make sure. Samantha narrowed her eyes distrustfully.

"I was with my brother," she replied. She was crossing her arms in front of her chest, a subconscious act of defense.

"Can we get his name?" Isabella asked, already knowing the answer and dreading it. Samantha set her chin in defiance, looking more and more like her brother.

"Don Flack. He works for the NYPD, too," she replied icily. "You know him?"

Isabella nodded curtly. "Yes, I do. I've worked with him on more than one occasion," she replied. "And I'll be asking him about your alibi."

Sam let out a cough, a clear warning. She was getting riled up and was getting close to stepping over the line.

"If that's all, detectives," Samantha said, stepping backwards.

* * *

><p>It was time for the part that Isabella dreaded. She had to ask Don about his sister.<p>

"Hey, Don, can I talk to you really quick?" she asked him in the bullpen. After glancing around, she stepped closer. "Alone."

He raised his eyebrow quizzically and stepped closer. "Can it wait?" he asked. "I'm in the middle of a big case."

"It's about your sister," she informed him in a low voice. Immediately, he straightened himself to his full six foot plus height and led her by the arm into the closest interrogation room.

After they stood in the interrogation room for a moment, his eyes rested on her, the blue depths burning with curiosity.

"What's this about, Lionheart?" he asked. "Is Sam in some sort of trouble?"

"Not if you can confirm that she was with you last night between six and nine last night," she responded. The information from Harold Hardcastle's wife, Sharon confirmed that they were separated and the maid changed the sheets daily. He had to have had intercourse within the past twenty-four hours.

"She was. What's this about?" he asked. Isabella raked her hand through her hair uneasily before she answered.

"My dead professor had sex with a female family member of yours and it listed it as your sister. Unless you have a sister I don't know about, I assumed it was Samantha," she replied. His eyes widened in unveiled surprise.

"Sam's my only sister," he told her. This involved delving deep into this in order to find a killer. It stabbed a cold, uneasy pain in her heart, but being a cop was messy.

"Alright," she replied. Curiosity rolled off of him in waves as he stepped closer to her.

"Look into this and keep me posted," he requested. She nodded in agreement.

"I will," she replied. "It's going to be messy, but this unidentified family member of yours was one of the last people to see my victim alive."

* * *

><p>Isabella recalibrated the equipment and ran the sample again. Same results. She looked deeper into the records and saw there was no maternal match to Don. It was his half-sister. They shared the same father.<p>

Unease clawed at her belly as she looked deeper into the DNA results. How long before she went to Mac with this? She knew she had to soon. Better now than never.

"Hey, Mac, can I talk to you really quick?" she called down the hall. She clutched the paper in her hand lengthwise and pressed it against her thigh. No one was to see this. Mac nodded.

"It's extremely important," she said in a low voice. He nodded towards his office and she followed him in. She set the paper on his desk and had him look at it.

"What am I looking at?" Mac asked after a moment of reading the paper. Isabella bit her lip and looked down.

"The DNA results of biological fluids from Harold Hardcastle's bedsheets," she replied quietly.

"It says that it's a female member of Flack's family," he commented. She nodded slowly.

"It reads that it's his sister, but I spoke to his sister. He was able to confirm her alibi last night. I looked deeper into it, and it's his half-sister. Samantha and Don share common alleles in all loci. They're full-blooded siblings, same mother and same father," she said. "I recalibrated the machine twice and ran it again. The same results came up."

"Looks like you're going to need to talk to Flack Sr," Mac said. Isabella played with the hem of her blazer and the nervousness nearly overwhelmed her.

"I know," she replied. "These DNA results needed to come to you first, because this affects all of us."

"If you need me to go with you, I will. Don Sr knows me," Mac offered. Isabella shook her head.

"I can handle it," she replied. "I don't want to make a massive spectacle of this."

"Alright, Isabella. I only hope that this doesn't get in the way of your work," Mac said.

She nodded her compliance. "I promise it won't," she assured him.


	45. My Way

_**A/N: I figured it was time for a little bit of drama in Don's life, rather than have it in Isabella's life only...**_

* * *

><p><em>And I've had enough of this<em>

_And now I'm pissed, yeah!_

_This time, I'mma let it all come out_

_This time, I'mma stand up and shout_

_I'mma do things my way, it's my way_

_My way or the highway_

Limp Bizkit — My Way

* * *

><p>Isabella stood near Don's desk. It was only right that she had his permission to talk to his father about this. It was common courtesy.<p>

"Did you want to talk to your dad about that thing?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no hangers-on were eavesdropping. The policewomen lived for drama like this, and she wanted to starve them of this issue. He looked up at her, his deep blue eyes pained.

"How would I start? 'Hey, Dad, I think you have a secret daughter that might be involved in murder. Mind if my girlfriend talks to you about it?' I don't think that would go over well with him," he said bitterly. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. This was hard on him after she had broken the news about his half-sister. Isabella wanted to be as delicate as possible and give him space to breathe and think.

"I assumed it was a talk you needed to have with him as a concerned son, rather than me asking him as a business-like CSI," she pointed out. He was lashing out about this, but it wasn't her fault. She refused to let herself feel guilty for this, but it was difficult. It was one of those awkward situations that she never thought she would have to face and it was her fault that this was happening to him.

"Can I talk to him first before you do?" he finally asked. He was hurt by his father's actions and she had never seen him look so betrayed. She twisted her mouth in thought. It was a very awkward situation. Isabella knew she had to ask Don Flack Sr first. She had to follow procedure, no matter how badly it hurt him or how conflicted she felt for it.

"I can't let you do that," she replied regretfully. Her eyes softened. When his eyes snapped up from his desk in shock, she had to explain.

"Isabella, this is my family's issue," he snapped.

"This is my job, Don. If this sister of yours is a killer, the defense will have a field day with this," she argued. He glared up at her, his jaw set.

"Do what you want," he snarled at her. The tone caused her to flinch inwardly and she stepped backwards.

"I'm not going to let this go away to make you happy," she informed him before walking away from the desk.

* * *

><p>Isabella had gone through every suspect and every single one of their alibis before she went to the only real lead they had: the biological fluids.<p>

"Run the biological fluid with epithelial DNA in the Columbia University student and staff log." Mac's voice caused her to spin around in shock. She nodded and turned her attention to the samples. The argument that had ensued between her and Don was still fresh in her mind as she worked.

_"Do what you want."_

_"I'm not going to let this go away to make you happy."_

She was a cop first. The mantra repeated itself in her head as she ran the sample, cross-referencing epithelial DNA with the database.

A grace period of five minutes passed before she had gotten a match. Grace Potter, twenty-seven years old.

Isabella printed the sheet and looked at Mac. "Her name is Grace Potter," she said quietly. Mac stepped forward, his green eyes locking with her blue eyes.

"You did the right thing," he told her. "Never doubt that."

"I know," she replied, her eyes looking away. "I guess I've just proven what kind of person I am."

"You're the kind of person who put the safety of this city and the integrity of this lab over your personal feelings," he informed her. She felt her throat thicken.

"Then, why does it feel like I've made the wrong decision?" she asked, feeling her voice break. She took a quick breath and squeezed her eyes shut before she felt the tears start to come.

"Because it impacts more than just the family of your victim. It impacts everyone now, including someone very close to you," he replied. "If this case is too much, then Stella can finish it."

Her eyes flew open and she wiped them quickly. "Sorry," she apologized. She didn't want Stella working this case. The fewest people who knew, the better.

"You don't need to apologize. Just make sure your tears don't corrupt the samples," he said, his voice teasing at the end. Isabella let out a chuckle and turned her attention back to the computer. She needed another sample. If she could get a sample of Grace Potter's DNA, she could close this case once and for all. The prints didn't match the prints on the murder weapon, but she was close. It was at least enough for a warrant.

"Whoa, I understand this case is your first by yourself, but do you really need to cry about it?" Danny commented. She turned and beamed a wide smile at him.

"Like you didn't shed tears on your first case," she teased. He ruffled her hair and peered over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but I waited till I was in the men's room," he replied. His eyes were on her tear-stained face. "Who killed Wrangler?"

Her eyes narrowed as the amusement flew out the window, replaced with annoyance and irritation. "Don't even joke," she snapped before pulling out her cellphone. One quick call to Sam, and she had a warrant.

* * *

><p>Don stared at the cellphone on his desk. The temptation to call his father was nearly overwhelming. He needed to know. He had a right to know.<p>

This was flat-out murder.

"Staring at your phone won't make it ring, Flack," he heard Ian say as he walked by.

"Very funny, Pacino," Don replied. "You're a fucking comedian."

"Alright, _bro, _chill," Ian said. Don narrowed his eyes into a harsh glare. Ian quickly walked away.

"Damn rookies," Don muttered. After staring at the phone for a few more minutes, he finally picked it up and dialed his father's number.

* * *

><p>Isabella looked over her shoulder for someone. <em>Anyone. <em>She needed a distraction as she had Grace Potter by the arm. She told Grace she needed a 'reference sample', to eliminate her as a suspect in the professor's murder. It turned out that a warrant wasn't necessary. Grace was more than happy to cooperate.

"Ian!" she hissed. She stood on her toes to look for her twin brother. Where the fuck was he? "Ian Patrick Pacino!"

"Ian's on break," she heard Don's voice behind her. _Shit._

Isabella looked over her shoulder hesitantly. _Fuck a duck in the ass backwards, I'm humped._

"Oh, I was just wondering...where he was. Rascally devil...he borrowed fifty bucks from me last week and hasn't paid me back," she lied, slapping her palm on her forehead. She was a really bad liar. Don nodded to the woman in handcuffs.

"Interrogation's full right now," he said icily. His eyes were on the woman. Grace Potter was a beautiful woman, with long chestnut hair and ice-blue eyes partially shrouded with her long bangs. She was tall and porcelain-pale, with full lips. It was easy to see the resemblance. She looked like her siblings.

"We'll wait," Isabella stated, gesturing to Grace for a place to sit down. She knew she should introduce the two, but not yet. Answers first.

"Detective Pacino? What's this about?" Grace asked.

"It's gonna be awhile, Iz. You may as well ask her here," Don commented. Isabella's eyes snapped up to her boyfriend.

"Then leave," she suggested, her voice flat. She couldn't afford for him to be there. The defense would go nuts.

"Don, what's this about?" she heard a male voice asked. She looked up and saw Don Sr.

He. Did. Not.

"What the fuck did you do?" Isabella hissed at Don. It was unprofessional to argue in front of a potential suspect, but she didn't care. Don interfered with her case.

"I called my dad down here. I wanted to ask him some questions," Don replied. Rage welled within her as she fought the urge to yell at him. He went behind her back and undermined her completely.

"We're talking about this later," she informed him flatly before she motioned for Grace to stand up.

"Daddy?" Grace said. Her eyes were on Flack Sr.

Fuck.

* * *

><p>She let Chey take over questioning. Right now, Isabella was about to flat-out murder her boyfriend. Pissed off didn't even cover the anger she was feeling right now. DNA did come back as a familial match to Donald Flack Sr. Grace Potter was his daughter. Don had another sister.<p>

Isabella Pacino was _livid._ Her boots stomped her steps on the ground as her eyes scanned the bullpen. When her eyes set on Don, she stormed over to him.

"You're coming with me," she informed him in front of Danny.

"Can it wait?" Don asked, looking over at his friend. Oh, hell no. He wasn't calling the shots. Not this time.

"Did I give the impression that I was asking your permission? No, it can't wait," she snapped. She could barely contain the venom in her voice as she balled her hands into tight fists. She was calling the shots.

He stood up slowly and followed her into the locker room.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" she demanded. "Seriously? Calling your dad? If she turns out to be the killer, Don, you could have just jeopardized a case. Because you couldn't wait."

Don stood there, taking her harsh stage-whispered yelling.

"And if you wanted to keep this on the down-low, you just blew it, bucko."

"What I did was wrong, Isabella, but I'm not apologizing because I don't regret what I did," he simply said. Her nails dug into her skin as she clenched her fists tighter and tighter.

"How the hell can I trust you when you don't trust my judgement?" she asked. "I knew what I was doing."

"I know you know what you're doing," he replied. "I don't doubt that. What I did was selfish, childish, and impulsive, but I don't regret it."

"After I ran the sample, Don, I was going to give you the green light to talk to your dad. You just made a huge fucking mess out of this. IAB is going to get involved," she said, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to calm down.

"So much for not getting my blood pressure up!" she finally snapped. He had told her the other day that he was going to watch himself, so as not to get her worked up, tense, stressed, and raise her blood pressure. Her doctor had warned her last week of her high blood pressure.

He relaxed finally, as if he had just realized what he had done.

"I undermined you and I'm sorry for undermining you. But I'm not apologizing for calling my dad. This is something I need to know," he said.

"Could you at least apologize for the timing? You needed to talk to me about this before you called him," she said. She planted her hands on her hips and looked up at him. Her anger was ebbing, which scared her. Usually, she remained angry for a long time.

This called for four-year-old stunts: silent treatment.

"And I'm sorry for not talking to you about it," he finally said.

"I don't expect you to apologize for calling your father. Grace is your sister and I was going to ask him about it after I was able to eliminate her as a suspect," she told him.

"Were you?" he asked. She pursed her lips in thought.

"I can't tell you that," she replied. "You've just proven that I can't trust you in that respect."

She was still royally pissed off at him, but she was at least able to control her tone.

"Let me know later on," he said. He tilted her face up. "And I am sorry."


	46. Missing You

**_A/N: Alright...it's my firm belief that every good and lasting relationship ends at least once...this is two months farther along now...by the way, massive thanks to my sister for letting me use her laptop to finish and post this chapter!  
><em>**

**_And Isabella's birth-date is 12/15/79 _**

**_The original airdate of 'Silent Night' was 12/13/06, so that puts it two days before Isabella's birthday._**

* * *

><p><em>Nothing feels right when I'm not with you<em>

_Sick of this dress and these Jimmy Choos_

_Takin' 'em off 'cause I feel a fool_

_Tryin' to dress up when I'm missin' you_

Shontelle — T-Shirt

* * *

><p>Isabella tucked her hair into her ski cap as she bundled up to go on scene. It was very early in the morning and it was times like this where she hated being on call. Two days before her twenty-seventh birthday. She curled her lip as she patted Wrangler on the head before slipping on her gloves. Ian had finally moved out, after eating her out of house and home and cancelling her favorite shows to accommodate his sports obsession. She had to admit, she missed having him there, but her apartment could at least stay clean.<p>

It had been six weeks since she had broken up with Don. By note. It seemed cowardly to do it that way, but he needed space and she wasn't sure who he was becoming.

_Don,_

_There are things you need...things I can't give you except space. You and I both know we need to take a breather. Take this time to sort out what's happened to you, with your father and what happened with Dean. I will be there if you need me, but I can't do this for you. _

_I'm sorry,_

_Isabella_

She had kept it short and simple, writing it by hand to not add insult to injury. Breaking up with someone wasn't her best trait, and if she had looked him in the eyes, she would have backed out immediately.

Dean Truby had killed a man for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, putting Don in a hard place with Mac. Donald Flack Senior had cheated on his wife and fathered a daughter outside of his marriage, like Gavin Moran had. Don was a mess after that.

She had been there to see him through it, but he needed space. She knew she needed to give it to him. It was true, she was still out of her mind in love with him. If he wanted her back, she would have him in a heartbeat.

When she pulled up to the house in Brooklyn, she parked her car and got out. The cold air stung her cheeks and she shivered in her thick wool coat.

"God, it's so fucking cold out here!" she hissed as she walked towards the scene. An officer was signing to a woman sitting on the tailgate of an ambulance and she stopped.

"She's our only witness," Stella said. Isabella looked up at her, blinking in confusion.

"What happened?" she asked as the body was wheeled out.

"A girl was shot in the stomach, trying to protect her sister," Stella replied.

The bond of pure family love had cost her her life.

* * *

><p>"You okay, Don?" Isabella's quiet voice caused Don to turn. He saw her blue-flame eyes shining with concern and felt a twinge of sadness in his stomach. How could he begrudge her for trying to the best thing for him?<p>

He hadn't done the same for her. She had merely come to him when she needed comfort, he had taken advantage of it. He needed comfort from her.

His father was now living somewhere else other than the home Don had known his entire life. He had to come to terms with his new sister.

And he knew Isabella felt completely responsible for it, but his family held absolutely no resentment towards her.

"That's just the million dollar question, isn't it?" he muttered. Her touch was comforting as she stepped a bit closer, her hand on his arm.

"You'll get through this," she told him gently. He knew he would, he didn't see how.

"You're like a modern-day female Yoda, you know that?" he said. A soft smile flickered across her lips as she chuckled.

"So I've been told," she responded. It killed him to be so close to her and not be able to touch her. He settled for putting his hand over hers, his thumb caressing the bones of her knuckles. Don had never been in a relationship with someone who actually cared about him and what happened to him. Usually, his 'girlfriends' settled for him coming home unscathed. She cared if he came home intact emotionally as well as physically. If he had a rough day, Isabella was there.

She had always been there, first as a friend, then as a lover. A simple kiss to the cheek left him wanting more and she looked up at him.

"I'll tell you something my cousin Carmen always tells me," she said. "She always says to me, she says: 'Izzy, you're gonna kick this thing's ass if it kills ya, 'cause you're livin' proof of what don't kill ya will only make ya stronger.' And I believe that whole-heartedly. You're gonna kick this thing's ass with guns blazin', 'cause that's who you are."

He chuckled. Leave it to Isabella to say something like that and make complete, perfect sense of it.

"Aw, Isabella, you know how to make a guy feel better," he told her teasingly. Her beautiful smile was contagious as she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"That's what I'm here for," she reminded him.

* * *

><p>Why the hell had she let her friends talk her into going out for a celebratory birthday dinner? She was having two. One with friends, the other with family.<p>

"Alrighty, girl, let's go party!" Tressa James, one of the techs from the lab called. Isabella stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. It was one of those occasions where she wore a dress. It was a short halter dress, ending mid-thigh. It was jade-colored, fitted to her waist and emphasizing her curves. The strappy silver heels she wore with the dress completed the ensemble. She played with the tip of her tongue ring, the fuzzy spikes running across the roof of her mouth.

"You look hot," Tressa said. Tressa James was a tall, sassy redhead with big brown eyes. Said redhead was holding a big cardboard box with a big smile.

"I'm afraid to know what you have in that box, Tress," Isabella told her. Tressa's Chesire Cat smile was unnerving as she tossed the box onto the petite CSI's bed and opened it.

"Confidence, my friend. The kind of confidence that will get you a new man," Tressa replied. She wore a form-fitting black halter dress with her hair piled high onto her head, with matching spike heels.

"I don't need a man," Isabella said with a roll of her eyes.

"That's what they all say, babe," Tressa assured her, patting her shoulder. Isabella peered into the box and her eyes widened. The box was filled with lingerie.

"What the hell, Tress? Did you rob Victoria's Secret?" she said, rifling through the pile. It was in every color known to man. Bras, thongs, panties, nighties, corsets, garters, and many other things.

"It was their huge blowout sale, I had to pick some up. I figured you were roughly about a four, maybe a two, so I just grabbed some stuff in those sizes," Tressa explained, her brown eyes shining with pride.

"A nice restaurant, maybe some cocktails will do just for tonight. I'm not in such a huge partying mood tonight," Isabella sighed. Tressa frowned.

"Well damn, Izzy," she complained. "I at least get to pick out your clothes."

Isabella rolled her eyes again, her hands going to rest on her hips. "Fine. I'm going to get on my sweats until then and take Wrangler out for a walk," she replied. She rifled through her closet, looking for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. When she put on the T-shirt, tears flooded her eyes. It wasn't her shirt that she was wearing.

It was Don's.


	47. Christmastime and Drama

**_A/N: Yes, I broke up 'Flacino.' Get your pitchforks. And your torches. But, it took me all day to think of a song to use. I was like: "*Ponder ponder ponder...* OMG I FOUND IT 8D And I now hate school...home-school sucks twice! e.o_**

* * *

><p><em>I can't get close if you're not there<em>

_I can't get inside if there's no soul to bare_

_I can't fix you, I can't save you_

_It's something you have to do_

David Cook — Come Back To Me

* * *

><p>Don's eyes were immediately on the minivan as Mac tried his hardest to get the back window rolled down. His steps were as quiet as possible as he sneaked his way around the side of the van. He clutched his Glock tightly in his hands until he saw the crying baby in its seat. He slid his gun back into its holster. Don glanced from Cole to the baby as he undid the buckles of the carseat and pulled the baby out. Perching her in one arm, he sneaked his way back around towards the group of officers. Isabella stood onto her toes to look at the car.<p>

"Here," he said. She gently slid the baby into her arms and stepped backwards.

"You alright?" she asked, looking him over. She opened her coat to swaddle the baby to keep her warm, her chin resting on top of the tiny head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her. Her eyes shone with concern and she bit her lip. When an officer tapped her shoulder, she handed her the baby.

He had to admit, he was surprised when she gave him a tight hug.

"Good," she whispered. He hugged her back and took a deep breath. A little girl was going home to her family, but her mother was dead.

"I think after all of this, I'm going home and calling my mother," she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Isn't she coming up to New York?" he blurted out, then regretted immediately. Ian had said it was a Christmas surprise for Isabella. Their mother was coming up for Christmas and New Year's. She stepped backwards, her face contorted with confusion.

"Not that I'm aware of," she said. He kissed her forehead quickly and grinned sheepishly. "Why?"

"No reason," he replied quickly. Shit, he'd said too much. Her eyebrow arched and she shook her head.

"Okay, then," she said slowly. "Where's Jess? I need to finalize our plans for the NYPD ball this year."

"Ah, she's somewhere with Ian, I think," Don replied, nodding over to the two detectives. "I keep forgetting the theme this year."

She gave him a slow smile before she responded. "Costume party. Angell and I decided to team up this year for something spectacular."

Ah, yes. Detective Jess Angell and Isabella had become quite the pair.

"Meaning, no one knows what it's gonna be until next weekend," she said, tilting her chin up. She looked like the cat that got the cream. That conspiratorial smile caused the curiosity to grow inside of him as he looked down at her.

"Except Jess. And how much do you want to bet that I could pay Ian to look in your closet?" he asked. Just to mess with her.

"Ha, it's not even at my apartment," she replied, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she walked away. "It's on layaway somewhere far away."

* * *

><p>Isabella thumped her forehead against the wall of her apartment repeatedly to clear her head. It wasn't working, because she still had the thoughts swirling in her head like a swarm of angry bees. What made it worse now was the headache she was now experiencing.<p>

The sound of her apartment door opening and Wrangler's furious barking made her go for her weapon. In under thirty seconds, her Glock was loaded and she slid out of her bedroom. When she poised her weapon to take fire, her eyes met those of her surprised aunt's. Her Aunt Rose had come for an impromptu visit. And brought along Kieran and Kellan. Oh, happy day...

"Wrangler, quiet!" she shushed her dog before closing the door. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the dog bed. Wrangler slunk over to the bed and laid down.

Kieran and Kellan Doherty were identical twins, with model-like looks. Both had long, curly deep red hair and bright eyes. Of course, the only thing that made them slightly less than identical was their eye color. Kieran was blue-eyed, Kellan was green-eyed. Both also reached to nearly five foot eleven. Kieran was the beauty queen, Kellan had been the athlete.

"Isabella!" the twins shrieked before crushing her into a tight hug. Isabella limply hugged her cousins back before looking at Aunt Rose. Rose O'Malley-Doherty was tall as well, her daughters her mirror image. Blue eyes shone back at her, the same blue eyes Marnie and Isabella herself owned.

"Auntie Rose," Isabella greeted her aunt stiffly. She looked at her cousins before patting them on the back. "Kelly, Kieran."

"Your apartment is so gorgeous!" Kieran gushed as she took in the apartment. Isabella gave her aunt a fake, sour smile before thanking her. Of course, she was about as sincere as a viper, but her aunt didn't need to know.

"Your mother and I will be staying with Ian. I thought you would enjoy spending some time with your cousins," Rose said stiffly. She did not like her niece and made no attempt to hide it. The fact that her niece and nephews were neither one race or the other had sickened her, even though Isabella had been told that she looked as if she could pass as a descendant of someone from Southern Ireland.

"It was nice seeing you, Auntie," Isabella replied before opening the door. Don stood on the other side.

"I heard yelling," he explained. Shit, he was the last person she wanted here at the moment.

"Don, now is _really_ not a good time," she said with her fake smile plastered to her face and through her teeth.

"Izzy, who's _this_?" Kieran drawled as she slung her arm around her cousin's shoulder. Isabella pleaded Don with her eyes. _Please get the hint, please get the hint. Either save me or make up some excuse to leave, please!_

"This is someone I work with, who is also my neighbor," Isabella replied quickly. Kieran grabbed Don with her free hand and tugged him inside.

"I'm sorry," Isabella mouthed to him. "Don, these are my cousins, Kieran and Kellan Doherty, and my Aunt Rose O'Malley-Doherty."

Kieran and Kellan were staring at him with undisguised interest, which in turn caused Isabella to bristle.

"Kier, Kell, Auntie, this is Detective Don Flack," she replied. Kieran held out her hand.

"I'm Kieran," she said. Isabella's eyes narrowed in contempt as Don shook her hand. Of course he looked at them with interest. The twins were gorgeous. And interesting, tall, and were as skinny as a yardstick. Insecurities from her childhood flooded back as she looked away. Why did this hurt her so badly? Why did all of the pain and resentment bubble up to the surface now?

"Nice to meet you," he said. Of course it was. Kieran's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She loved hearing people's accents and Isabella knew she would make a comment about Don's Queens accent. The accent that still made her shiver when she talked to him on the phone, or in person. _Sexy Voice Syndrome_, as Aria had called it. Something Don definitely had.

"Oh, I just _love_ your accent," Kieran cooed. Yep, there was the comment. _Please leave, please leave, please leave._

"Hey, Izzy, Danny didn't catch you, but he said he wanted to talk to you some more," he said, clearly ignoring Kieran's comment. Which pleased Isabella immensely to no end.

"Yeah, tell him I'll talk to him at work," she replied.

"I can't stay long, I had just enough time to get home and get ready for my next shift," he said with a half-smile. She chuckled.

"Try not to kill yourself on the way out, it's a madhouse here," she joked, nodding to her visiting relatives.

"I heard that," Kellan called from the kitchen.

"I resent that!" Kieran protested from...well, three feet away.

"You were supposed to," Isabella muttered. She knew she would have to beg Mac to let her work more hours, or she would have to dodge her cousins some other way.

"See ya, Lionheart," he said. He bent down to talk lowly into her ear. "Don't worry, I'll bust ya out soon."

She felt her smile spread across her face. "You have no idea how big I will owe you," she replied. He winked at her before waving goodbye and backing out.

"Okay, seriously, who is that?" Kieran asked, her eyes bright. Isabella felt a sense of pride wash over her. It was her sort-of boyfriend, sort of ex-boyfriend. How she would describe him, she wouldn't know.

"We just work together," Isabella replied smoothly before walking into the kitchen. Aunt Rose had given her a suspicious glare before she had left.

"Bullshit, he's into you," Kieran declared. Kellan looked up at her sister from her perch on the kitchen counter.

"Who's into her?" she asked, setting her phone onto the counter.

"That guy that stopped by. The seriously hot guy," Kieran replied. Isabella rolled her eyes at her gossipy cousins before opening her fridge for a drink.

"You read way too much into stuff," she informed them as she cracked the top of her cream soda. They did indeed, but this time they were on the mark.

"Oh, please. You're into him, too," Kieran said, as if it were obvious. She acted as though she were fifteen rather than twenty-seven, but she didn't care.

"I don't have to justify my love life to you. Besides, it's against policy for two officers to fraternize," Isabella replied. It was true, but only in departmental affairs. He couldn't get involved with someone on his team. Isabella was Crime Scene, not Homicide.

"Is he a CSI like you?" Kellan asked. Isabella shook her head.

"Mm-mm. He works Homicide," she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

"Flack...that's Irish, isn't it?" Kellan asked thoughtfully. Isabella's eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at her cousin. Kellan and Kieran had refused to seriously date anyone but Irishmen. It was of their heritage, one that her mother had 'disgraced' for her father.

"Yep. Southern," she replied slowly. _C'mon, Don, don't let me down. Get me away for some reason, any reason._

* * *

><p>"Donnie, this is gonna sound weird, but right now, I freaking love you," Isabella said as she slid into the booth of Starbucks.<p>

"Oh, happy day," he replied with a grin. She glared at him tightly.

"Apparently, Ian and your mom are sick of you dodging them. Last year, you spent it in Brooklyn with the mob."

"Not all of them," she defended. "Only my daddy, my Aunt Fiorella, and my cousins in that family."

"Are they still part of the Mafia?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She opened her mouth to protest but merely nodded. "I rest my case."

"You'd make a terrible lawyer," she informed him. He rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. "How are you doing?"

He sat silent for a while. After a few moments, the awkwardness became too much.

"Trick question?" she tried to joke. He shook his head.

"'Cause I can't bullshit you," he replied. She gave him a gentle, encouraging smile.

"There are some things I can't fix for you, Don. No matter how hard I'll want to, I can't," she said softly.

"I know, you've done more than anyone else. I don't expect you to try to fix it and you'll give yourself a stroke trying," he replied. His words rang true and she sighed.

"How's your family doing?" she asked, looking up at him after propping her forehead onto her hand.

"My mom's alright, she's thinking about inviting Dad to move back home. Trying to come to terms with Grace. Sam's still pretty pissed off, and let's just say my brothers want to meet you now," he said. Isabella let out a giggle, despite herself. His eyes grew somber as his eyes met hers.

"You didn't tell anyone about what happened, did you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Only Mac, but he needed to see the DNA results. The only other people who know are Chey and Sam, but that's because they're on the case with me," she assured him. His lip curled at the sound of Sam's name.

"He's not gonna tell anyone, no matter how pissed off at you he probably still is."


	48. Insatiable

**_A/N: A little M-rated naughtiness...love it ;D _**

* * *

><p><em>But nobody knows you like I do<em>

_'Cause the world, they don't understand_

_But I grow stronger in your hands_

_Turn the lights down low_

_Take it off, let me show my love for you_

_Insatiable_

_Turn me on, never stop_

_Wanna taste every drop, my love for you_

_Insatiable_

Darren Hayes — Insatiable

* * *

><p>Isabella tilted her head back against Don's kisses journeying along her throat and neck, leaving sucking little kisses in their wake. She arched her back to him, her head going to the side to allow better access. Usually, she didn't just flop onto her back and let a man do what he wanted to her, but Don had always been the exception. His hands gripped her hips as she let out a soft sigh. Isabella kept her hands on his shoulders, her lips touching where his neck met the crook of his broad shoulder. The strap to her camisole slid down her shoulder and she turned to slide it up. Don held her hand with one and slid down the other strap, wriggling it down to where her purple bra was revealed.<p>

"God, Iz, I swear you know," he muttered into her ear as he cupped her breasts in his palms, feeling her through the silky material. They had gotten to talking in the hallway and somehow found their way back into his apartment, where they were currently getting hot on the couch.

She let out another moan as her hips rubbed against his. He wanted her, she could feel it. His lips finally found their way to hers as their tongues fought for dominance as they slid against each other. It was completely self-destructive behavior, but it felt way too damn good to stop.

"Unless you want to fuck me on your couch, I strongly suggest we take this somewhere else," she finally managed to gasp out. He was kissing her chest now, moving his way lower onto her breasts. How did it happen that one minute, she was pissed off at her cousins, and the next, she was ready to tear his clothes off like a horny teenager?

"Think you can make it?" he finally asked, his eyes meeting hers. She had rarely seen such a strong emotion of desire in his lidded storm-blue eyes and she felt a little spark of pride for being the reason for it.

"Think you can?" she snorted, standing up. She pulled the camisole over her head, away from her waist and tossed it onto the floor. It was a whole other tango as they collided with walls and chairs in their quest for bed. She touched him wherever she could reach, straining to maintain the contact of their lips. He clearly got fed up, because he lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist. Don collided with the wall, grunting as his back hit. Isabella pulled his white T-shirt over his head, her hands exploring the warm planes of his chest under her hands. He fumbled for the doorknob and finally prized open his door.

"Why the fuck does my room have to be so far away _now_?" he muttered between greedy kisses. She chuckled and hopped down from his waist. He laid her on the bed and they made quick work of each other's clothes. There was no time to tease each other into begging, they were both heated up and turned on.

He slid her panties down her legs slowly and her eyes locked onto his. Now was the only time he was going to tease her. She frowned playfully and tugged him on top of her.

"No teasing tonight," she told him. He chuckled and slanted his mouth against hers in a tantalizing kiss, a sure promise of what was to come.

"Aye, aye," he replied as he settled himself between her thighs. She bit her lip to smother her cries of ecstasy as he entered her slowly, inch by inch. Nearly three months was way too damn long to go without him. It was a senseless crave, but he always made it worth her while.

"Don, I'm not going to last long," she whispered against his lips. "I need you now."

"How do you ask?" he prompted, his voice a soft murmur. His dark eyes locked on hers, making it clear he wasn't going to make her wait either; he wanted her just as badly.

"Please?" she breathed. With that, he filled her to the hilt and groaned.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long either," he swore in a growl.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, they were curled up in each other's arms, their limbs a tangled mess. Isabella panted to catch her breath as she moved her hair out of her face.<p>

"What did we just do?" she muttered under her breath. When she felt Don's hot breath on her neck, she shivered and nestled closer to him.

"If I remember correctly, we had sex," he replied, chuckling a bit. His skin always radiated warmth and she pressed her face greedily against his neck. He moaned a little at the contact, his hands splayed out on the bare skin of her back.

"Why do I keep questioning our motives?" she sighed. His lips went to hers and his hand clamped around her thigh to draw it over his bare hip.

"Because you and I usually don't last as long as we did without going stir crazy and ripping each other's clothes off," he responded with a crooked smile. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he let her roll him onto his back. The blankets and sheets were haphazardly on her hips, her bare back in clear view.

"We usually don't, do we?" she agreed. His fingers traced her face, inviting her in for a kiss.

"We can't keep living like this; I need you," he said against her lips. She returned the kiss languidly before meeting his eyes with hers.

"Even after meeting my cousins?" she asked softly. It was silly to feel so insecure after all these years, but she needed to know. He chuckled, kissing her again. God, the things that man could do with his mouth and hands.

"Even after meeting your cousins," he replied, kissing her nose gently. She buried her face in his broad chest, letting him comfort her with his touch.

"I missed you so much," she whispered. He chuckled against her skin.

"Baby, I was never gone," he replied.

* * *

><p>The pangs Isabella felt as she left his bed nearly caused her to crawl back in as he slept. He looked peaceful as his chest rose and fell with each breath, the sheets pooled at his hips. She never stayed over, but she was seriously considering changing that. Unfortunately, her cousins were due home soon, so she couldn't. Isabella groped for her clothes on the floor, and slid on her panties. The minute she snapped her bra into place, she felt warm lips on her skin and she lolled her head backwards.<p>

"Tease," she murmured. "You know I can't stay."

When his lips touched that sensitive part of her neck, she bit her lip. "Please?" he murmured into her ear, his husky voice sending shivers down her spine. She looked over her shoulder and smiled wistfully. She reached up and kissed him gently, lingering on his lips for a moment longer than necessary.

"I wish I could," she replied honestly. "But Kieran and Kellan are due back soon, and they're bound to notice if I'm not at my own apartment."

His hands laced around her waist, kissing her deeply before she pulled away. His stormy blue eyes were darkened with desire as he looked at her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she said. She mirrored his deep kiss before she stood up. His hand laced around hers and she pulled away.

"Happy birthday," he told her. She smiled before fixing her jeans.

"Thanks," she replied.


	49. My Life Would Suck Without You

**_A/N: Finally, I was able to update this! The song in italics later on in the chapter is "So Far Away" by Carole King. Personally, Reba McEntire's version is far better..._**

* * *

><p><em>'Cause we belong together now, yeah<em>

_Forever united here somehow, yeah_

_You've got a piece of me_

_And honestly, my life would suck without you_

Kelly Clarkson — My Life Would Suck Without You

* * *

><p>Isabella frowned at the door as she found her way over, stumbling over discarded shoes in the darkness and let out a squall of pain as her knee collided with the edge of her end-table.<p>

"What?" she asked as she flung open the door, irritated. Levi stood on the other side, his face showing the beginnings of a scruffy beard. His dark brown eyes shone with good humor as he looked at her.

"Happy birthday, honeybee," he said. Her irritation vanished and she flung her arms around her older brother, letting out a squeal.

"Levi!" she shrieked. He stumbled out into the hallway and hugged her back tightly. Levi spun his little sister around and Isabella blinked back tears of happiness. Her brother was safe and sound. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he replied. His grip loosened and she stood in the hallway, her wide smile making her cheeks hurt.

"How long are you in New York?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Until after New Year's," he replied. In the dim light of the hallway, she saw the scar above his left eyebrow and the healed cuts along his face and neck. His right eye was swollen slightly and his lip had been split.

"Did Diego's lackeys do this to you?" she asked in a low voice. Tonight had been her birthday celebration and by her request, she had shared it with Ian and her parents. Isabella had been surprised to see that her parents had acted friendly towards each other, having a good conversation about work.

Levi shook his head. "Diego himself. He's escalating, Isabella. If he comes to New York, he might go after you," he said.

"He can sure as hell try," she scoffed. "I have Don across the hall and it's not like I'm exactly helpless."

"Still. If he comes after you, you don't breathe a word about Lacey and Lily's whereabouts," he reminded her. Isabella rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.

"I'm not a moron, Levi. If he's a woman-beater, they can lock him up for domestic assault on an officer. Zio Antonio has also placed security on me and Ian. Diego Vasquez comes near me, he's a beaten or dead man. Hand-delivered to the Wilmington PD," she told him. She rested her hands onto her flannel pajama-clad hips and surveyed her brother.

"Still, Isabella, I shouldn't have pulled you into this. Your life is in danger because of me," he said softly.

"You're damn right you shouldn't have pulled her into this," Don's voice came out of nowhere. The two siblings looked over Levi's shoulder and saw Don standing in his doorway.

"Flack," Levi addressed him. Don's eyes were dark as he glared at his former superior.

"Don, I got this," Isabella attempted to assure her boyfriend. He shook his head and stepped closer to her.

"She's not completely helpless, she needs to know the facts," Levi said. He turned his body to shield his sister from his former partner.

"This is the sort of thing that she doesn't need to know. If this Diego guy comes here, he's going to make a beeline straight for her. I love your sister, but she's a magnet for danger and trouble," Don told him. Isabella stiffened in shock. This was the first time he had ever said he loved her and he was saying it to her brother.

"Hey," she protested.

"Isabella is a cop. Being in danger and getting into trouble sort of comes with the job," Levi said. Isabella finally stomped her foot.

"Isabella is also twenty-eight years old and doesn't need her big brother and her boyfriend to be looking out for her," she spoke up impatiently. Levi stiffened and stepped towards Don aggressively.

"You're dating my sister?" he demanded, gripping Don by the shirt. Isabella stepped forward, pulling her brother back.

"You didn't tell me you had a daughter, you owe me," she reminded him, tugging at his sweater. Levi shrugged his broad shoulder out from under her touch and Don shoved the older man back.

"Yeah, because you said you trusted me with her, I treat her with respect, and I look out for her. Pardon me if I'm not jumping up and down in giddiness that she's in danger because of some gang in Wilmington," he snapped.

"What was the grace period after I left before you got into her pants, huh?" Levi demanded, his voice getting louder.

"Guys, calm down. We're in a hallway and we're making a scene," Isabella said. She wasn't happy she was being ignored, she wasn't used to it.

"I don't need your permission to date your sister, man! I treat her with a hell of a lot more respect than you apparently do, because putting her in danger and withholding information is the absolute last thing I would ever do to her," Don shot back. His response was a solid punch to the jaw. Okay, now things were crossing the line. When Don shoved Levi back, Isabella slid her fingers into her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

"Alright, both of you shut up and listen!" she commanded. Immediately, both men stopped fighting and turned to look at her. It was late at night, but she didn't care.

"Levi, you need to calm the fuck down. I'm a grown woman and I can see whoever I want, I don't need your permission, nor do I need your blessing," she said, looking at her brother. Her gaze rested on her boyfriend, whose fists were up in a defensive position. "As for you, Don. I don't need you to fight my battles, it's something I've always been able to do. I appreciate your protectiveness, but back off."

* * *

><p>Isabella handed Don a bag of frozen corn from the freezer for him to press against his jaw.<p>

"Now, both of you apologize to each other," she commanded. Both men glared balefully at each other from Isabella's kitchen. Kieran and Kellan sat wide-eyed on the couch, quiet for the first time since their visit. Isabella's eyes narrowed into slits. "Now."

"I will when you stop being bossy," Levi muttered. Isabella's response was a solid slap to her brother's arm. "Fine. Flack, I'm sorry I punched you in the jaw and flipped out."

Isabella turned to look at Don, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was dating your sister and I'm sorry I flipped out that you put her life in danger," he said finally. He turned and looked at her. "Will you apologize for getting involved?"

She shook her head. "You knew what you were getting into when we decided to be in a relationship, Don," she reminded him. "My family always comes first, before anything else. Levi needed my help and I wasn't going to turn him down."

Isabella slid her arms around his waist and kissed his jaw gently. He winced a bit before kissing the top of her head.

"Oh, c'mon, you two!" Levi groaned, covering his eyes. "Not while I'm here...or at all. The thought of my sister and my ex-partner..."

Don slid his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. "Well, I had originally come by to tell you that my brothers are in town and they really want to meet you," he said. "But Levi distracted me."

Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Even after what happened?" she asked, her voice raising an octave with stress. Levi was forgotten for a moment and fear rushed through her.

"Especially after what happened," Don replied. "They think you got guts and they want to meet the woman that is a role model to cops everywhere."

"So, you talk about me to your family?" she asked nervously. He chuckled and hugged her tightly.

"Yes, I do," he replied. Another disgusted groan from her brother. "It's Saturday night, the night after the NYPD ball. My mom wanted to invite you over for dinner and dessert."

Isabella felt a smile on her face. "Is there anything I need to worry about?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head for a moment, then nodded. "My sister-in-law Cynthia can be a real bitch. She's my older brother's wife and she feels the need to play protective big sister with me. She'll play the heavy and ask all sorts of embarrassingly personal questions about your life and put you on the spot a ton, but Madison should be better."

"If I meet your family Saturday night, you have to meet mine on the twenty-third," she bargained. Her smile widened as she continued. "If I'm learning about you, you need to learn about me."

Levi chuckled. "The anti-Christmas night?" he said. Isabella turned and looked at her brother.

"Yep," she replied.

"What's the anti-Christmas?" Don asked. Isabella let out a laugh.

"We sing regular songs instead of Christmas songs. Basically, we sing a lot of songs and eat a ton of food. Then, we all play some sort of mixed-up sport and wrestle around," she explained.

"Will you sing Nonno's song?" Levi asked, looking over at her. He was referring to "So Far Away" by Carole King.

"Of course I will," she replied with an indignant scoff. "It's not a family function if I don't sing it."

"Wait, do you sing better than you can dance?" Don asked, nudging her in the ribs. She rolled her eyes, nudging him back.

"You're kidding, right?" Levi prompted his friend. Finally, one of the twins spoke up.

"Isabella has a great voice," Kellan said. "I remember when she sang a solo part for her choir in high school. She was really good."

"You'll see on the twenty-third," Isabella assured him, patting him on the shoulder.

* * *

><p>"I've missed you singing Nonno's song," Levi said as they sat down in the living room. After a few more minutes of badgering by her relatives and her boyfriend, she finally relented.<p>

With a roll of her eyes, she took a deep breath.

_So far away_

_Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?_

_It would be so fine to see your face at my door_

_But it doesn't help to know that you're just time away_

_Long ago, I reached for you and there you stood_

_Holding you again could only do me good_

_Oh, how I wish I could_

_But you're just far away_

_Yeah, you're so far away_

_One more song about moving along the highway_

_Can't say much of anything that's new_

_If I could only work this life out my way_

_I'd rather spend it being close to you_

_But you're so far away_

_Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?_

_It would be so fine to see your face at my door_

_But it doesn't help to know that you're just far away_

Isabella took a deep breath to settle her racing heartbeat. It had been a while since she had sang that song, but she couldn't forget the words if she had tried. After years of singing the song, it had been pounded into her head. Years of choir practice by someone who had taken music and vocals seriously had shaped her voice from the squeak it had once been to a smooth, strong, and even voice.

"This is why we make her sing every year," Levi said, hugging his sister around the waist. She let out a laugh and rested her head on her brother's shoulder.

"I have never heard that song, but now I want to," Don said. She chuckled and leaned forward to press a kiss against his lips. "But seriously, that was awesome."

"Thank you," she replied. She felt Levi grab her waist and sit her back onto her stool.

"I'm fine with you two dating as long as you keep that to a minimum," he told them. Isabella's eyes rolled skywards.

"Couples kiss, Levi," she reminded him. He scoffed.

"Depends on how long they've been dating," he said.

"Well, we've been together off and on since June. Six and a half months," Don spoke up. Isabella nodded to him, planting her hands onto her hips from her stool.

"There you have it."


	50. Meeting the Family

**_A/N: I've been dying to write when Isabella meets Don's family...it was too good to not do..._**

**_RaiN: Yeah, lol. I don't pre-write my chapters, I just write what comes in my head and then I post it! You'd be surprised how far ahead I have planned..._**

**_Shu: I freaking love protective Don xD _**

**_Nicky: It's okay, lol! I understand completely, don't feel like you have to apologize. I get busy myself and can't review stories, so I understand about being busy. Hope school is going okay for you!_**

* * *

><p><em>Lord knows we've had our share of fights<em>

_Our sleepless nights, our ups and downs_

_We've had plenty and then some of __"Baby, I'm gones" and turn-arounds_

_Sometimes, I swear it might be easier t__o throw in the towel_

_Someday, we're gonna look back a__nd say "Look at us now"_

_That's why I keep on loving you_

Reba McEntire — I Keep On Loving You

* * *

><p>Don watched as Isabella smoothed out her sweater over her nice jeans, her blue eyes glistening with nervousness. Her black motorcycle-style jacket was unzipped, revealing her deep red sweater.<p>

"I'd be careful to mask the emotions if I were you," he joked. "My family can smell fear."

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened. "That is not funny, Donald," she snapped. He gave her a quick kiss before opening the door.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called. Immediately, he was assaulted by an eight year old Bethany. Her dark curls framed her face and her brown eyes were wide.

"Uncle Donnie!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him. Don lifted his niece onto his hip and hugged her.

"Beth, careful, he's old," he heard his sister-in-law Cynthia say. Her strawberry blonde hair was piled onto her hair and her brown eyes shone with good humor. Don hugged the tall redhead with one arm, his other arm still around Bethany.

"This is my girlfriend, Isabella Pacino," he said, nodding to Isabella. Isabella smiled and shook Cynthia's hand.

"It's nice to meet you," she said. Cynthia narrowed her eyes for a split second, as if sizing up the smaller woman.

"I'm Cynthia," she replied. "I'm married to Jason."

"Congratulations," Isabella said. Her pretty blue eyes rested on Bethany. "And who's this?"

"I'm Bethany Flack!" Beth chirped, holding out her hand. Usually, the eight year old was shy and soft-spoken, but that all flushed down the drain during the holidays.

"Nice to meet you, Bethany, I'm Isabella," Isabella replied, shaking her hand. Bethany wrinkled her freckled nose with a smile.

"You talk funny," she said. Isabella let out a surprised chuckle.

"Beth, that's rude," Cynthia chided.

"Oh, it's fine," Isabella assured the older woman with a smile. "She's not the first one to tell me I talk funny and she won't be the last."

"Where are you from?" Beth asked with wide eyes. Don shifted the little girl's slight weight to accommodate her and watched with quiet fascination.

"I'm from North Carolina," Isabella answered. "I moved to New York a few years back."

More squeals of "Uncle Donnie!" filled the air as a gaggle of giggling little girls bounded towards the foyer of his childhood homes. The house hadn't changed from the time his parents had bought the house so many years ago. It was a modest two-bedroom home, perfect to accommodate what had been two children. Two had turned into three and three had turned into four.

"Hey, my favorite girls!" Don said, setting down Beth to open his arms. Six year old Sophie, four year old Elizabeth, and two year old Natalie all flung themselves at him and he pretended to be taken backwards and sat down on the carpet. He was greeted with some unintelligible words from Natalie and sticky kisses and giant little girl hugs from the rest.

"Mist yoo, Unca Donnie!" Nat said, her blue eyes shining with happiness. Cynthia held onto Isabella's arm.

"Come on and meet the rest of us," she said smoothly. Jason was the Chief of Detectives in Chicago and never ceased to endlessly rib him about his "lowly Third Grade Homicide Detective" position.

"Hey, Junior!" Jared bellowed, slapping him on the shoulder. Don chuckled and grabbed his brother around the neck, rubbing his knuckles against his hair.

"I oughta punch you in the gut, old man!" he joked.

"No hitting!" Elizabeth chirped, crossing her little arms over her chest. Her dark brown curls hung in her face and her little face was in a deep frown, illuminating her big blue eyes.

"She's right," Jared said, scooping up his daughter.

"You're right, Lizzie. I was wrong to hit your daddy," Don replied and waited till Jared returned from the kitchen. Wait, the kitchen?

Oh, damn...

"Well, now, who is this?" was Jared's call. _Damn! _Don quickly found his way from the winding road of discarded dolls and Barbies to the kitchen. It was too late. Jared had his arm slung over Isabella's shoulders with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Jared, this is my girlfriend, Isabella. Isabella, this is my brother, Jared."

Isabella chuckled, her arms folded over her stomach. Her face was smooth as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. No sign of discomfort.

"I apologize for my family," Don said, winding his hand in hers. Her smile widened as she let out a laugh.

"Funny, they were just doing the same thing," she teased back. Her dark hair had been let down and Lizzie stared at the new woman with wide eyes.

"Why in the world haven't we met this one before?" Madison asked. Her short light brown hair had the sides pulled back, her big green eyes on display. She wore a cream-colored sweater over her black skinny jeans, her feet bare on the worn linoleum.

"Because I've used the time to prep her for you guys," Don replied, giving his sister-in-law a hug. She smiled widely and hugged him back, her grip tight on his waist.

"Hey, we're not that bad," she defended. She was originally from North Carolina herself, having grown up in a military town. Cynthia was a cynical, nosy woman and Madison was the antidote to Cynthia. Cynthia had grown up in LA, not knowing the evils of the world. Yet, she and Jason were hopelessly devoted to each other.

"Well, you didn't do a good enough job. I had her eatin' out the palm of my hand," Jared cracked a joke. Isabella had always caught on fast, because there was a twinkle in her eye.

"Was that what that was?" she asked innocently. That caused a laugh to erupt around the room and Don mustered a snort.

"She's been here ten minutes and I already like her better than I like you," Jared said, giving the petite CSI a high-five.

"So, Isabella, how did you and Don meet?" Cynthia asked. She crossed her arms and turned on her burning stare. Isabella looked over and smiled sheepishly.

"Through work," she replied. Don tugged his girlfriend away from his brother and laced an arm around her waist. "He was a douche at first."

He turned to look down at her. "I wasn't that bad," he defended. Her eyebrow rose and she nudged him.

"Oh, please," she snorted. "'If you gave me your number along with your name, I wouldn't be heartbroken'?" she quoted.

"Hey, granted it wasn't the best line, but did that really make me a douche?" he asked.

"You knocked me down!" she protested.

"In my defense, I didn't see you!" he joked. They hadn't joked around like this in a while and he missed it. She nudged him playfully, moving her bangs out of her face.

"Oh, so now I'm short?" she fired at him. Her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement, he knew she was kidding around.

"It's pretty obvious," he replied.

"Mind your P's and Q's, buster, I can still get the drop on you," she reminded him. He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Aw, remember when you and I were cute like that?" Madison said, looking up at her husband. Jared's eyes widened and his arms laced around his wife's waist.

"Yeah, then you remembered that your husband's a jackass," Don joked. The sound of the door opening and footsteps stomping snow off boots filled the air.

"Hey, everyone, we're home!" Donald Senior's deep voice boomed.

"Granddaddy!" the girls squealed. The sound of a baby crying filled the air and Madison turned the corner to pick up her new baby Reagan, or 'Rae'.

"Junior brought home a girl!" Jared called. Donald turned and immediately pumped Isabella's arm.

"Ah, we finally see you again!" he said with a grin. Isabella smiled widely and her hands fell to her sides.

"Nice to see you again, sir," she replied. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

"Aw, Dad, don't kill her," Sam chided from the doorway as she set down bags. "Don's gonna need her later."

"Yeah, you'd bring a whole new definition of cop-killer," Don added as he wrapped his arm protectively around her waist. "Not to mention, I'm pretty fond of her myself."

She let out a squeaky chuckle, a sign of nervousness. He knew she had rarely ever met the families of those she dated, so she never knew how to act around them. Don made a mental note to stay closer to her, to iron out any insecurities. If any of them were to make her life miserable, they would have done it already.

"Oh, she's a cop?" Jason asked. The three Flack brothers all looked alike, from their coal-black hair to their electric blue eyes and the smile. "What department?"

"Crime Scene," Isabella replied. Don had purposely left out the fact that Isabella was what his brothers had deemed "a lab rat." Now, the real ribbing began.

"Oh, she's a CSU?" Jared commented from the doorway of the kitchen. Don winced and stood a little closer.

"CSI," Isabella corrected. "I've been working Crime Scene for about six years now."

"She was in the blast with Donnie," Donald said, clapping his youngest son on the shoulder. Murmurs of 'ooh' sounded out around the room.

"And I met her when she was looking for Grace," Sam piped up. Isabella looked sheepishly at Sam.

"I really am sorry if I was rude then," she said. Sam shrugged it off with a wave of her hand.

"You were doin' your job, I can't hold a grudge for that," she replied.

* * *

><p>After dinner, everyone had gathered around the living room to watch a 'Christmas-y' movie.<p>

"Okay, so one guy picks one and a girl picks one, then we vote," Jason said, pulling 'Scarface' out of the DVD collection. Cynthia frowned.

"That's not appropriate for children to watch, Jace," she chided.

"Cynth, they're watching "Lion King" upstairs. That gives us quite a while," Jason replied. The couches were cramped tightly with people, so Isabella and Don sat on the floor with Reagan, which Isabella had to admit, was a precious baby. Bright blueberry-blue eyes shone back at her as the three month old baby cooed up at her.

"Rae really seems to like you," Madison commented from her perch on the couch. Isabella smiled up at Don's sister-in-law and tickled the baby's pudgy stomach.

"She's adorable," she replied. When Reagan's eyes fixed on Isabella's necklace, she let out a hiccup and a coo. "Yes, you are," she cooed.

Seeing the little baby so delightful and happy set off a sadness in her heart. This was something she probably would never have. For so long, Isabella had been alright with that, but now, she couldn't help but think that wasn't enough for her anymore.


	51. I Will Not Say Goodbye

**_A/N: Just so you know, this has been in the cards since the very beginning..._**

**_Shu: I know, right? I nearly died writing it!_**

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes, the road just ends<em>

_It changes everything you've been_

_And all that's left to be_

_Is empty, broken, lonely, hoping_

_I'm supposed to be strong_

_I'm supposed to find a way to carry on_

Danny Gokey — I Will Not Say Goodbye

* * *

><p>"Hey, Isabella, you don't care if I spill your boy's blood, right?" Jason said, his arm around Don's neck. Isabella chuckled and studied her boyfriend's older brother.<p>

"As long as you don't kill him or break anything. I kinda got this big crush on him," she replied with a wink.

"Thanks for the permission, Lionheart," Don grunted, moving against his older brother. She smiled down at him and ducked around to face him.

"Need some help there, cowboy?" she teased and let out a giggle.

"Wow, Donnie, you've fallen hard if you're depending on your girlfriend to get you outta fixes," Jason replied. Don raised his eyebrow.

"Oh no, she doesn't get me out of fixes. She can get the drop on you, big brother," he informed him. "Step back, little lady."

Isabella held up her hands and took two steps backwards.

"Boys, don't get blood on the carpet or holes in the walls," Kyra chided as she walked by. Her lithe body was clad in a form-fitting emerald green blouse and a pair of chocolate brown trousers. Her stunning gray eyes settled on Isabella. "Oh, it's very nice to see you again."

Isabella smiled at Don's mother. "You as well," she replied. She had to admit, she was relieved that no one bore ill will towards her for what had happened.

With a terrific crash, she turned and saw Don pinning Jason down onto the ground.

"Your desk job's made you lazy," he commented as he wrenched the older man's arm behind his back. "Field jobs are what's up."

"Yeah, but being a field cop's made you cocky," Jason replied and pushed himself to his knees. After the two men wrestled around, Cynthia cheered on her husband.

"Oh, I just love his passion," she said, her light brown eyes glowing fondly. Isabella chuckled, watching the two men with amused eyes.

"Show 'im how it's done, Donnie!" she said. Don promptly sat on his brother's stomach.

"God, Don, what the hell have you been eating?" Jason grunted. "You're not playing fair!"

"Yeah, that's for putting me in a headlock, you rat bastard," Don said and stood up. Immediately, Jason hooked his arm around his younger brother's leg and tugged him down.

"That's for using rude language in front of the ladies," he told him. "Yours and mine."

"Hey, careful with that," Isabella said, planting her hands on her hips. "That's my man you're hurtin' there."

"Man, if you were a man I'd ask you to help me out with this," Don grunted as he tried to move his brother off of him.

"Yeah, well, if I were a man, you'd be gay. Take the alternative," Isabella replied with a sassy smirk.

"Woo-hoo, I'm startin' to see why he likes you so much," Jason said. He finally stood up and pulled him up.

"See, Donnie? Age comes with experience," Cynthia crowed as she wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. Don squeezed Isabella's waist, kissing the top of her head.

"Not exactly," Isabella piped up quietly. She looked up at the tall redhead and raised her eyebrow. "Don may have cheated in the first round, but Jason was the one who cheated just now."

"Oh, so you're a profiler and a lab rat?" Jason joked. Isabella stifled an unladylike snort and the insult of "lab rat" went over her head.

"Hardly," she replied. "I'm paid for my observant nature and my attention to detail. You watched when Don's attention left you for a single half-second and you stuffed his head in the carpet."

"That's just playin' dirty, Lionheart," Don assured her. She propped her chin onto his shoulder and rested her hand on his. If there was one thing in her life she was happy with, it was right now. Random affection flooded through her veins, singing from her head to her toes. He tucked a lock of her dark hair out of her face and turned into her.

"Alright you guys, knock it off," she heard Jared say as he walked in.

"Isabella, I've meant to ask since you arrive here," Cynthia said. Isabella tilted her head at her to continue. "What's your last name?"

Isabella let out a laugh. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she replied. Jared's eyes widened.

"Wait, it's not Flack, is it?" he asked. Isabella shook her head quickly. Instead, she simply reached for her jacket and slid her hand into the pocket to pull out her wallet. Wordlessly, she slid out her driver's license and handed it to the three of them.

"Pacino?" Cynthia said, clearly amused. She must not know what the Pacinos are in New York. Jared snatched the card from his sister-in-law to stare at it.

"This is legit?" he asked. Isabella nodded slowly.

"It's legit," she replied.

* * *

><p>Don watched his girlfriend interact with his family, her demeanor so relaxed. He didn't regret bringing her over, not at all. His brothers had teased her, but she had dished it right back. It seemed so natural to watch her interact with his family, as if she had belonged there all along.<p>

"You've been watching her for the past minute," Donald muttered to his son. Don broke his concentration and looked up at his father.

"How do you like her?" he asked. Donald's own blue eyes, the same eyes that mirrored those of his children's, watched the petite Southerner as she talked and laughed with the others.

"She's good for you," he answered honestly. "You seem more relaxed with her and it's easy to see that she cares for you as much as you do for her."

Don nodded thoughtfully as Isabella's head tilted back to laugh at something humorous Bethany had said.

"She's not Maria, son," Donald commented. He was referring to Don's old high-school girlfriend that he had gotten very serious with. Maria Sanchez had dumped him hard for his then-best friend. It had taken him a long time to recover from the breakup.

"You're right," Don agreed. "She's been there for me when I couldn't go to anyone."

"The others seem to like her, too," Donald said, nodding to them. Even Don's mother seemed to be enjoying her company.

"She fits in well," Don concurred.

"Don't let this one go, Donnie. She's definitely one you need to hold onto," Donald told him. Don clapped his father on the shoulder.

"I have absolutely no intention of letting her go," he replied honestly.

* * *

><p>Isabella felt her work phone vibrate in her back pocket and she excused herself from the other women to answer it.<p>

"Hey, Stella, what's up?" she asked cheerily.

_"Where are you?" Stella asked her. _Isabella tilted her head in confusion.

"I'm with Don at his parents' house. Why, what's wrong?" she asked hesitantly.

_"Stay with Flack and don't go anywhere without him," Stella replied, her voice an octave lower with urgency and concern._

"Stella, what's going on?" Isabella demanded, alarmed. "Tell me."

_"I don't know for sure yet," Stella admitted. "You need to trust me and stay with Flack."_

Isabella felt Don's hand on her back and pulled her aside.

"He's right here," she said, paranoia flooding through her like a released dam. Stella said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

"Isabella, we gotta go," Don muttered into her ear. "It's not safe."

"Don, tell me what's going on," Isabella begged. "Please, what's going on?"

"Not here," he told her and handed her her jacket. "Hey guys, we gotta go. We told our bosses to not call us in tonight, but it's a work-related emergency."

Isabella quickly hugged everyone goodbye.

"Keep our brother outta trouble, uh?" Jared muttered into her ear. Isabella smiled.

"Sure thing," she agreed. Bethany and the other girls hugged her goodbye as well. "It was nice meeting you all."

* * *

><p>Isabella watched the swarm of cars outside of the precinct and felt the unease growing in her belly as Don parked the car.<p>

"If I told you to stay right by me and not ask questions, would you?" he asked. She felt his burning stare on her and she turned to meet his startling electric blue gaze.

"No," she replied simply. It sounded blunt, but it was true. Something major had happened and she knew it was going to change her life. Don came around and helped her out of the car. His hand slid into hers, as if reassuring her and preparing her for the worst.

"Hey guys, step back," he commanded them. Slowly, the officers filed backwards and revealed a man tied to an office chair with an ice pick sticking out of the side of his neck. In shock and utter disbelieving horror, Isabella recognized Ian.

"Oh God, no!" she gasped, pulling away from Don. His arms constricted tightly around her torso, keeping her from her brother.

"That's my brother!" she shrieked. "Ian!" Tears blurred her vision as she tried to fight her way to her brother. He couldn't be dead, not Ian. He had just begun to live.

"Please, God, no!" she begged, her voice breaking into sobs. "Ian!"

She finally broke away from Don and ran for her brother. "Isabella, don't touch the body!" she faintly heard Hawkes say.

Did they not get it? This was her _twin brother_. Her baby brother. He was dead and strapped to an office chair, dumped outside of the NYPD like a piece of common trash.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she fell to her knees, her petite body wracking with grieving, anguished sobs. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

"What the hell is going on?" she heard Levi call as he pushed his way through the crowd. Isabella looked up for her remaining brother and she ran for him, taking refuge in his arms.

"Whoa, honeybee, where's the fire?" he murmured in her ear. She couldn't speak as sobs of horror and grief overtook her once more. It hurt to breathe as the white-hot knife of pain seared through her body.

"Ian," she sobbed. "S-Someone killed Ian."

Levi's head snapped up and he pulled Isabella through the crowd. "Show me," he commanded. Isabella sniffled and pulled her brother through the crowd, pointing to their little brother. His eyes were frozen open and wounds were cut all over his body. He had fought like hell against whoever killed him.

"That fucking son of a bitch fucking killed my brother!" Levi roared, lunging for his brother's body. Isabella felt another wave of grief crash over her and she heard herself squeak as she cried out her pain again. It seemed to surreal to be right.

"Hey, I'm here," she heard Don say. She threw her arms around her lover, breathing in his masculine scent and taking in his heartbeat, his breath. Isabella let herself sob like a little girl in the arms of her best friend and lover.


	52. Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

**_A/N: Yeah, I know, Ian died...but we're approaching the end of the story! After this plot and the next, I'm going to end the story. I know, groan all ya want. I ran the ideas through my head and I'm still on the fence about a sequel. Give me your thoughts in reviews and PMs!_**

**_Shu: I know, I hated to kill him off :c I didn't see him going anywhere and I needed to bring up Diego again...poor Izzy_**

* * *

><p><em>They keep saying time will heal<em>

_But the pain just gets more real_

_The sun comes up each day_

_Finds me waiting, fading, hating, praying_

_If I can keep on holding on_

_Maybe I can keep my heart from knowing that you're gone_

Danny Gokey — I Will Not Say Goodbye

* * *

><p>The NYPD was in an uproar over the murder of Ian Pacino. IAB had been completely insensitive about the whole issue, but they needed to look at it from all angles. Isabella and Levi had been their prime suspects, but they both had solid alibis.<p>

"When was the last time you saw your brother?" Detective Angela Brown asked Isabella, leaning over her desk. Her bold green eyes nearly drew her in and her blonde hair hung in her face.

"I saw him this morning," Isabella replied. "We had breakfast and he said he would see me later."

"Had he been acting weird lately?" Detective Brown asked, leaning onto her hands. Isabella wiped her eyes with a Kleenex, feeling the news settle in.

"Not at all. He's usually this jovial, peppy guy with a lot of jokes. That never faltered," she replied, sniffling. Brown's office was a cold room, reminiscent of the interrogation rooms. Cold steel desk, filing cabinets and bars on the windows. Officers had joked that she had liked interrogation rooms so much that she had modeled her office after one. Her desk was bare, except for paperwork and her computer. No pictures of family, nothing that made the desk personal.

"Did he say where he was going?" Detective Brown asked. "Was he going to meet anyone?"

Isabella shook her head. "He said he was going to work. If there's one thing my brother can't do, it's lie. He's always been a terrible liar," she replied.

"Has he been receiving any threats? Anyone who might want to hurt him?" Detective Brown asked. Isabella had to chew on that for a moment and she lowered her head in thought. She knew she needed to keep her mouth shut about Diego Vasquez, but she wasn't even sure if the bitter Mexican even knew about Ian. Isabella was common knowledge. Ian wasn't.

"You've met him, ma'am," Isabella pointed out. "He's a good cop and he did the job as best as he could. He wasn't the kind of man who people always got mad at and stayed mad at."

"Do I have your permission to continue asking questions as it pertains to the investigation?" Detective Brown asked. Isabella met the tall blonde's green eyes with her blue.

"If it means catching my brother's killer, you can ask me any damn thing you want," she replied evenly. Her eyes stung from the salty tears and her voice quivered. Speaking the words "my brother's killer" had just made it real to her. Ian really was dead.

When she walked out of Detective Brown's office, she saw the CSI team waiting outside. She was greeted with hugs of sympathy, words of apologies, and "is there anything I can do's?"

"Isabella! Where's Isabella?" she heard someone call. Her head popped up at the sound of her father's voice. Tears filled her eyes again and she broke away from the embraces of her friends to run for the sanctuary of her father's arms. Armando held her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"Are you alright, baby?" he muttered. "Did anyone hurt you?"

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head. "No one hurt me, Daddy," she assured him. Her eyes were on the doors of the precinct, where they had found him.

Armando brushed the tears away from her face with his fingers and kissed her forehead, crushing her into another hug. She curled closer to him, burying her face in his warm chest.

"No one's going to either, honeybee," he told her, his tone adamant. Isabella saw Levi sitting on the floor near the wall, his eyes frozen wide. She broke away from her father to go to her brother. To try to reassure him.

"It's my fault," Levi whispered, a tear rolling from his eye. "It's my fault my brother's dead."

"Levi, it's not your fault," Isabella murmured, bending down in front of him. Levi's eyes blazed with anger as he glared harshly at his little sister.

"It _is _my fault, Isabella!" he roared. "If it weren't for me, Ian would still be alive! But he's not, he's dead! I'm the one who caused this!"

"It's not your fault!" Isabella replied shortly, her grief shortening her temper. She stood up. "It's his killer's fault, and everyone's doing their damn best to make sure that his killer gets captured."

"Why even bother saying the words 'his killer', Isabella? Why not just come out and say his name? It'll save us all a hell of a lot of time," Levi sneered. Isabella planted her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. The Snakebite Mafia of Wilmington was responsible for her brother's death, that much she knew. The only thing that was left, was to go and get Diego before he went after someone else.

"He died to keep Lacey and Lily's location a secret and he fought like hell to keep it a secret. Ian died as he lived, protecting us. We're his family, and we're standing here, arguing like a couple of fucking teenagers!" Isabella snapped.

"Diego Vasquez did this," Armando muttered, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Guys, we can't afford to let anyone else know about this," she muttered after looking over her shoulder to see people staring at them with shocked faces.

"He can't get away with it, honeybee," Armando replied in a low voice. "Ian was a cop."

"Yeah, and Diego Vasquez has killed cops before, Daddy. He thinks he's above the law and he certainly has all the motive in the world to kill one of us," Isabella pointed out. "I'm leaving this in the hands of the crime lab, no matter how badly I want to track him down like a bloodhound and rip his throat out with my bare hands for killing my brother."

* * *

><p>"If what Isabella has told us is correct and the killer we're looking for is in fact Diego Vasquez, we need more," Mac said in the conference room in the lab. Isabella balled her fist and set it onto the table.<p>

"Why is this guy after Levi? What has Levi done back in Wilmington?" Stella asked. It was perplexing to the others, but they didn't know how gangs worked personally. Everything they knew, they knew from past cases. Never from being up-close and personal, like Isabella, Danny, Levi, and Ian had.

"When he lived in Wilmington, he dated this girl named Lacey Fuentes and they got really, really close. Levi turned eighteen and decided to move back to New York, and they kept in contact through letters and phone calls and the occasional visits. He moved back to Wilmington to start his new job there and he wanted to get Lacey back and marry her, he found out she had his daughter. Diego Vasquez is a cocky, arrogant bastard who works as the second-in-command of the Snakebite Mafia. They have ties all over the world to get weapons, drugs, people, but no one was able to get them down. They left no evidence. When they left a warehouse, it was burned to the ground. When someone jumped out, they were beaten down and left somewhere. Diego had Lacey under his thumb and Levi, the sappy little romantic, went after him," Isabella explained softly.

"This is all brought on by a girl?" Danny asked incredulously. Isabella nodded.

"Diego doesn't take rejection very well and he's not exactly God's gift to women. I've had more dealings with him more than any other criminal back in Wilmington, back when I worked SAU," she replied.

"Levi took his girl and he wants revenge," Mac said. Isabella nodded again, shaking out her dark hair.

"He threatened him a couple of times and sent some lackeys to rough him up," she replied. It was clear to see that Don was trying his hardest to keep his mouth shut and not say anything.

"He called you up a couple of times, too," he finally pointed out. Suddenly, all eyes were on her.

"Thanks for puttin' me in the hot seat, Donnie," she muttered. "Yeah, he did, but all he did was threaten me."

"Lacey and Lily also showed up at your apartment," he added. Her eyes met his and narrowed.

"Shut. Up," she finally told him.

"You didn't call this in?" Mac asked, his voice an octave lower with disapproval. Isabella shook her head.

"Give me a minute to explain," she said. "All he did was threaten me by phone call, nothing else than that. When I found out he'd hopped the red-eye to JFK, I got Lacey and Lily to Italy and stayed there until the coast was clear."

"And now, you think he's back in the city," Mac stated. Isabella nodded slowly.

"I know for a fact that he killed Ian, because he's sending a message," she replied.

"That message is: "I'm a psychopathic jackass with an inferiority complex"," Danny said. Isabella fought the urge to roll her eyes as she heard skin slapping, a sign of a high-five.

"The epithelial DNA is being run on the ice pick right now. If it matches to Diego, we have him on killing a cop," Hawkes said.

"What has just been said cannot be leaked anywhere," Isabella requested. "Because if it does get leaked, we have about eight hours to find Diego before Hombre Lama does. My dad and my brothers and I aren't Mafia, but you still don't mess with a Pacino."


	53. Talks and Scares

**_A/N: Holy shit, Batman! Two updates in one day? Lol okay, so I'm sort of combining these last two plots...they'll play into them, you'll see! I wanted to do a bit with Isabella's parents, besides the bitter divorce._**

**_RaiN: I know, I hate to end it, but good things always come to an end! Poor Isabella's had a bum-wrap every step of the way...but she's always a tough one!_**

* * *

><p><em>Through the years, when everything went wrong<em>

_Together, we were strong_

_I know that I belong right here with you_

_Through the years, I never had a doubt_

_We'd always work things out_

_I've learned what life's about by loving you_

Kenny Rogers — Through the Years

* * *

><p>It had been the third time today that Isabella had thrown up. Every three hours so far, she had been on her knees, tossing her cookies into the toilet. She ran her hand through her ponytail as she stood up and wiped her mouth with a tissue.<p>

"It's just the stress," Marnie assured her. "Once things wind down, you'll feel better."

Isabella just nodded and brushed her teeth. "I feel like crap, Mama," she complained. Right now, she just wanted to curl up in her mother's arms and just feel okay again. Armando had agreed to stay in the apartment with Isabella, and Aunt Rose and the twins went to finish their Christmas in Ireland. They had been devastated by Ian's death and set to mourn him in their home country.

"I know, honey," Marnie murmured. Isabella laid her head on her mother's lap and shook out her dark hair from its ponytail. Marnie gently stroked her daughter's hair, humming softly to her. Don had been assigned to keep his eye on Isabella, but Armando had assured him that he didn't need to right now. He wanted time with his daughter.

Armando slid Isabella's legs on him and gently stroked her knee, his eyes clouded over with pain and loss. If anything had happened to his other son or his daughter...

He didn't know how he was living right now with Ian's death. Ian had been a bright boy from the get-go and had a sunny disposition. He had been irresistible, his precious son. Levi had been just like his father, but Ian had been cut for something better. Armando remembered the day his son had sat him down and told him about wanting to join the police force.

_"Dad, I'm doin' it," Ian said, his limpid brown eyes meeting his father's. "I'm joinin' the police force."_

_"Why?" Armando asked, blinking in confusion. He had seen an entirely different career path for his son. Something that required brains and talent, not raw dedication and loyalty._

_"I just can't see myself doing anything else, and it's not just because it's what you, Levi, and Izzy do," Ian replied. "I want to help people and I want to know that what I'm doing makes a difference. If I could help someone, then I know my life's worthwhile. Someone needs to help clean up Wilmington and that's what I'm gonna do."_

_"Those are the exact reasons your brother and sister gave me when they told me they were going into the academy," Armando chuckled._

_"I'm not Levi and Izzy, Dad," Ian pointed out. "I just want to make you proud."_

_Armando's eyes softened and he clapped his son on the shoulder. "You do that by just bein' you, boy. You and your brother are ten times the man I'll ever be."_

"Is she asleep?" Marnie asked, her Irish accent soft. Armando looked at his daughter with her eyes closed and nodded.

"She's asleep," he confirmed. He let out a deep breath and shook his head.

"How are we going to do the funeral arrangements?" Marnie asked. Armando shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose to relax.

"I want to do a memorial service for him here," he requested. "He has respect among the NYPD, they're going to want to say goodbye to him."

"And the funeral in Wilmington?" Marnie said. He nodded, examining his ex-wife. Her expressive blue eyes met his with such an inquisitive depth, he wondered briefly if Isabella was awake. Those blue eyes had always been his favorite physical feature of her. Paired that with her beautiful smile and he had been a fool for her since day one. Her deep red curls hung around her face as she watched their daughter sleep.

"I'm definitely going to be there for that," Armando replied.

"It was real, wasn't it?" Marnie said, looking up at him again. He tilted his head in confusion to look at her. "You and me?"

"I like to think it was," he replied. "We were a couple of kids back then, trying to prove to our families that race didn't matter, that love was all we needed to make a marriage work."

"We proved it to them for ten years," she murmured. "And had three beautiful children."

"These three were definitely the highlight of our marriage," he agreed. "And now, we have a beautiful granddaughter."

"We did good, didn't we?" she sighed. Her eyes fixed on Isabella, who still slept peacefully with her head on her mother's lap.

"We never could control our kids, could we?" he chuckled. "We could only channel their energy into something else."

"I do wish they hadn't chosen your profession," Marnie said wistfully. "But I suppose nothing could have kept our son from becoming a cop."

"Remember the fall I came to visit and we took them on that haunted tour on the USS North Carolina?" Armando recalled. He let out a low laugh and shook his head.

"You mean, when Ian punched out the guy who had scared Isabella into a panic attack?" Marnie said, a smile on her face.

_"Now, kids, if you get scared, you need to tell someone. They'll back off," the tour guide said. He looked about seventeen years old, with acne on his face. Armando held the hands of his six-year-old twins and walked them through the ship. Isabella curled closer to her father, her hand tightening around his as the spooky lights dimmed overhead. Maniacal laughter echoed throughout the room and the sound of a chainsaw caused both children to let out whimpers._

_"Daddy, I'm scared," Isabella whispered. Ian frowned and looked up ahead. A guy jumped out and Isabella let out a bloodcurdling scream, jumping onto her father. "Daddy!"_

_The kid holding the chainsaw laughed and waved it at her. _

_"Hey, my sister's scared, stop!" Ian told him. When the kid stepped closer, Isabella had started crying in fear and Armando scooped her up into his arms to keep his daughter tightly against him._

_"Back the fuck off, you're scaring her!" he roared. The kid kept coming closer and let out a grunt. Ian had punched him in the gut and pushed him down._

_"That'll teach you to mess with my sister!" he told him and frowned deeply. _

"Yeah, I remember that," Armando replied. "Even though all three became cops, they were damn good ones."

"You saw their files?" Marnie asked. Ever since the bomb, she had become fiercely protective over their children. The fact that she had tried to protect their youngest and he had died had clearly caused her to think twice about her mothering skills.

"Yes, I did," he assured her. "Ian graduated with flying colors, Isabella had graduated top of her class. Levi had placed top ten and had only spent three years on the line before getting scooped up by Scagnetti."

"John Scagnetti still works there?" Marnie asked in surprise. Armando nodded.

"Yep, and Dennis became a lieutenant," he replied. Marnie murmured something in Irish and shook her head.

"I remember when I used to spend time with all of their wives," she said.

"Well, now things are different, aren't they?" he mused.

* * *

><p>Isabella curled up in Don's arms on her couch, keeping her head on his shoulder.<p>

"How are you feeling?" he asked, brushing her bangs back from her face. She looked up at him and shrugged.

"I'm feeling better, I guess," she replied. "I've been throwing up every three hours so far."

"It's the stress," he assured her, his hand curling her legs over his. "When this whole mess is over, you'll be just fine."

"That's exactly what my mother said," she said. She had been a lot more tired recently and she felt the need to sleep a lot more.

"I'm glad Mac picked you to keep me safe," she confided. When their lips touched briefly, the sound of his phone cut them off. Don groaned and flipped it open.

"Flack," he addressed the caller. His eyes widened as he nodded. "Yeah, send the picture." He pulled the phone away from his face.

"They think they've found Diego Vasquez outside of the NYPD," he informed her. Isabella stood on her knees, her eyes on his phone. When the picture loaded, there was a picture of a man strapped to an office chair with a photo stabbed onto his chest. He had clearly been tortured and beaten before he had been shot in the pulse and in the forehead. Clear Mafia style.

The man strapped to the chair was Diego Vasquez.

"Zoom in on the picture," she ordered. Don zoomed in on the picture and Isabella's eyes widened. It was an old picture of an eight-year-old Levi smiling brightly with two babies in his arms. Newborn Isabella and Ian.

"Hombre Lama got to Diego before you guys did," she murmured. "They were sending a completely different message."

"Don't mess with my family," Don said. "It's him, Mess."

* * *

><p>It had been a whole month since Ian's death. Lindsay had flown back to Montana to testify against her friends' killers, which Isabella had admired. The stress had died down, but she was still feeling sick.<p>

"Hey, Stell, I think I'm gonna go on home," Isabella said to her. Stella patted her back.

"You still feelin' sick?" she asked. Isabella nodded, her hand resting on her stomach.

"I'm gonna make an appointment with a doctor and see if I can't see what's wrong," she replied. "It could a virus, could be anything."

Stella raised her eyebrow, clearly insinuating something else. Isabella's eyes widened.

"Oh no, it couldn't be that," she quickly disagreed. "A kick in the gut ten years ago took care of that."

"Doesn't hurt to take a test, kiddo," Stella pointed out. "At least then you can rule it out completely."


	54. Whatever It Takes

**_A/N: See what the other plot is? I had to let Isabella have her little happy ending, she deserves it! I know a lot about pregnancy, all three of my sisters have gone through it and right now, my best friend is going through it! I was there every step of the way for her, so I know quite a bit about this..._**

**_RaiN: Yeah, I kinda gave that away, didn't I? Silly me...thanks for the vote of confidence lol. I read some other stuff and they're all rushed. I read back on some of my work and IT'S rushed...this is the longest story I've ever written and I'm pretty proud of it. I don't think it's rushed, so it's working out pretty good! _**

**_Messer: Protective Don...we all love it! I think I've set a brief foundation on the kind of mother Isabella would be, I'm glad you approve of potential pregnancy!_**

* * *

><p><em>I'm afraid you'll have to suffer through some of my mistakes<em>

_Lord knows I'll be trying, oh to give you what it takes_

_What it takes to know the difference_

_Between gettin' by and livin'_

_'Cause anything worth doing is worth doing all the way_

_Just know you'll have to live with all the choices that you make_

_So make sure you're always giving way more than you're taking_

Reba McEntire — You're Gonna Be (Listen to the song while reading this to really get how it fits this chapter)

* * *

><p>A little blue positive sign stared Isabella in the face as she stood in Carmen's bathroom, completely stunned. She was pregnant. Tears flooded her eyes and she felt her throat thicken with tears. Her body had clearly repaired itself and she had a baby in her womb. Immediately, she reached out and slid her free hand around her stomach, as if she could feel her baby already. This was the third positive, it had to be true. In about eight months, she would have a baby.<p>

"Izzy?" Carmen called. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am," Isabella replied. She opened the door and met the concerned eyes of Carmen. "It's positive."

"You're pregnant?" Carmen asked, her eyes brightening. She threw her arms around her cousin in excitement before pulling back and patting Isabella's stomach. "Sorry, baby."

"I need to see a doctor for confirmation, Carmen," Isabella reminded her. It was hard not to get excited about it, though. This was something she had thought she would never be able to have.

"Isabella, quit being such a damn realist and just accept the fact that God's smilin' on ya," Carmen stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "If anyone deserves to be a mom, it's you."

"God, I should tell Don somehow," Isabella murmured, running a hand through her dark hair. She closed her eyes for a moment and looked down at her still-flat stomach.

"Here," Carmen said, placing Isabella's cellphone into her hand. Isabella's eyes widened as she gazed at her cousin in shock.

"Carmen Rene Sanchez, this isn't something to tell someone over the phone!" she scolded. "I need to tell him in person when we have a minute!"

"Then go," Carmen said simply. "You need to tell him."

"I will," Isabella said, pulling her coat on over her shoulders. Carmen touched her cousin's arm in assurance.

"If he's not there, I will be," she told her.

* * *

><p>It was the moment of truth. Isabella looked down at her phone and saw the number for the hospital. With a deep breath, she flipped it open.<p>

"This is Detective Pacino," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

_"Detective Pacino, this is Dr. Billings, I have the results of your pregnancy test," the doctor said. Her voice was calm and clear, soothing Isabella's frazzled nerves. "It's positive."_

Isabella stood in the break room, her mouth hanging open in shock. She was pregnant. "H-How far along?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

_"We won't know until we do an ultrasound, and we'll need to keep an eye on you because of your history. This does put you as a high-risk pregnancy, with your job and notwithstanding your past with the horse-kick. I'll suggest as your doctor that you remove yourself from field work and wear a mask when dealing with chemicals. As long as you're careful and you take good care of yourself with light exercise, and I don't see why you can't have a normal pregnancy. We'll just keep an extra-special eye on you and your little one," Dr. Billings replied._

"Thank you, Doctor," Isabella said and hung up. She leaned against the glass wall, completely stunned.

"Isabella, are you alright?" Hawkes' voice caused her to jump and whirl around. "You've been standing like that for fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she assured him, her voice coming out in a squeak. She cleared her throat. "I just, ah, got off the phone with my doctor."

Hawkes frowned, clearly concerned. "Is everything alright?" he asked. She nodded in assurance. Yes, everything was beyond fine.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied. Her hand came to rest on her stomach, as if in reassurance to the baby. Her heart swelled as she thought of the little life inside of her. She was finally becoming a mother.

A knowing look crossed Hawkes' face and he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Congratulations," he told her. He had been a doctor, of course. He must have recognized the signs.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling the tears flood her vision. This was real.

* * *

><p><em>"Hey yo, Flack, your girl's here!" Don heard Officer Lily say. He lifted his head to see Isabella walk into the precinct with a folder on her arm and could tell from where he stood, that she was practically bursting at the seams with excitement.<em>

_"Are you available for a break anytime soon?" she asked, her voice a hushed tone. Don lifted his wrist to check the time before nodding._

_"Yeah, I'm good for some coffee," he replied. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her blue-flame eyes shone with utter delight. Something had definitely worked in her favor, because this was the happiest he had seen her in a long time._

_After he had his coffee, and she had her tea, they sat down at a booth._

_"Alright, Lionheart, what's got you so tied up in knots?" he asked curiously. She suddenly looked nervous and fidgeted with the lid of her tea bottle, as if she were afraid to tell him._

_"You remember that accident I told you about? The one with the horse?" she asked. He nodded slowly, remembering the topic. She had told him about it later on, after she had come back from Italy. She hadn't told him before, because she wasn't sure which direction they were going in. Now that things seemed to be going well, she had confided in him about it. He knew it had taken immense confidence and courage on her part to open up about the accident and he knew the crushing pain she felt. Isabella was a rebellious woman by nature. Nothing made her want something more than someone telling her she couldn't have it._

_"Well, I'm completely healthy now," she said. He patted her hand, feeling relief wash over her._

_"That's great!" he told her. "You can put it behind you now." Her eyes burned into his as she leaned over the table a bit._

_"God, I suck at telling people things," she muttered. "Damn."_

_"What's wrong?" he asked. He felt his concern rise as he surveyed his girlfriend. She raked a hand through her hair and scratched her head as she fumbled for words._

_"The doctor called," she finally said. Something was wrong, he just knew it. She was sick...she was dying..._

_"I'm pregnant."_

Don rubbed his eyes vigorously in his apartment as he relived the moment. He was going to be a father. It was safe to assume that he was the father, because he knew Isabella hardly saw anyone outside of work. He also knew she wouldn't have told him if he wasn't. Just when things were back on track with their relationship and he was trying to prove to Isabella that he was what she needed, Mother Nature had given her a gentle push. Don knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He had been toying with the idea of marriage for weeks, and had asked multiple people their opinions about his potential marriage to Isabella. Mac had been his first stop. Having been married before, Mac Taylor was the father figure Don could go to in his time of need.

_"How is everything, Don?" Mac asked in his wise way. Don shrugged._

_"Same old, same old," he replied, waving his hand for so-so._

_"Is something wrong?" Mac asked. Don shook his head no. Things were spectacular between Isabella and him. She had finally come to terms with Ian's death and she had been to the memorial and the funeral for her twin brother. She could look forward with a new hope and new eyes._

_"I'm thinking about asking Isabella to marry me," he finally said. Mac simply nodded and studied him._

_"Marriage is a big commitment," he commented. "But I don't have to tell you that."_

_"I know it is, Mac, and this is something I've had on my mind for weeks now. They say that if you look forward into the future and look to your left, that the woman you see beside you is the woman you're gonna marry. I can't see myself with anyone else but her," Don replied. "God, I've been head over heels for the woman since she opened her mouth the day we met and told me off."_

_"She's a good woman," Mac offered. "She doesn't put up with anyone else's drama, she's selfless, and she's a good friend."_

_"I took her to meet my family at Christmastime," Don confided._

_"And?" Mac prompted. Don shook his hand through his short dark hair and chuckled._

_"They absolutely love her," he replied. "After I had dropped her off at the precinct, my sisters-in-law both called me up and said 'She's perfect for you, marry her immediately.' My nieces love her, my brothers like her, my mother even likes her."_

_"So, what's the problem?" Mac asked. "You love her, your family loves her, she loves you, her family knows your family and they get along. You two had a deep friendship before you stepped into a relationship. There's no reason why this shouldn't work."_

_"I just want to think this through clearly, and get people's opinions on marriage," Don explained. "I don't want to keep hearing 'You haven't been together long enough, you're too young.' It's a pain in the ass and I want to make sure my shit's in order."_

_"You already know the implications of falling in love with someone who works with you," Mac said slowly. _

_"She gets the job, Mac," Don said. "That's something not a lot of women can get. She knows the dangers of the job, she knows the politics of the job. Isabella doesn't climb the rank ladder, the only reason she does this job is because she knows she can make a difference doing it."_

_"You're both children of NYPD legends," Mac commented with a chuckle. Don knew the older CSI had worked on the team with Armando Pacino Sr and Don Flack Sr. _

_"We've lived that down and we've made names for ourselves," Don pointed out. "We've both made it past what our dads had done when they were NYPD."_

_"You're sure about this, Don? Marriage is a massive step," Mac warned._

_"I've never been more sure about anything else in my life," Don replied._

* * *

><p>Isabella folded her hands on her stomach, trying to wrap her head around this little miracle in her womb. She knew she was about six to seven weeks along, that put the due date sometime in August. To say she was excited was to put it mildly.<p>

"Hi, baby," she said softly to her stomach. "It's your mommy." The waiting seemed endless to her as she stared at the sweater covering her flat stomach. Wrangler sat down by the couch and rested his great head on her knee. She stroked his head slowly and heard his tail thump on the floor.

"You're my good boy, Wrangler," she cooed. "You're not my only little miracle anymore." She knew she was going to screw up a lot, but she only hoped her child would still love her for it. Isabella Rae Pacino knew firsthand what being the kid of a cop was like. Now, she was in her mother's shoes for once. Was it normal to panic so early? Would her child love her?

She knew she would give him or her the best life she could. To teach him or her right from wrong and to love them no matter what they did. Her heart belonged to this little wonder so wholly and completely, Isabella wasn't sure if she had any room left in her heart to love something else. There were a lot of downright stupid things she had done in her life, and she had had a lot of regrets.

But there were three things she knew she did right: Become a cop, rescue Wrangler, and have a baby.


	55. An Intriguing Offer

**_A/N: She's pregnant 8DDDD!_**

**_RaiN: Yes, you're very smart lol. Carmen hasn't exactly had the best time with men, so she just assumes that Don's gonna be a dick about it!_**

**_Messer: The best combination of all :) And thank you!_**

* * *

><p><em>Forever can never be long enough for me<em>

_To feel like I've had long enough with you_

_Forget the world now, we won't let them see_

_That there's one thing left to do_

_Now that the weight has lifted_

_And love has surely shifted my way_

_Marry me, today and every day_

Train — Marry Me

* * *

><p>Don played with the little velvet box in his palm, staring at it. This was it. The moment of truth.<p>

He knew Isabella didn't like the little cliches, like moonlight and roses, or candlelit dinner and music. She was more straightforward than that.

His heart hammered unevenly in his chest as he slid the box into his suit pocket and reached out to knock on her door. This woman was pregnant with his child and this was the confirmation he needed. Isabella wasn't getting away from him this time. They belonged together, that much he was sure of. He was hers and she was his. He knew she would be the kind who would nag at him to pick up his socks when he was eighty or to quit leaving the TV on so damn loud.

"Hey," she greeted him after he had knocked on the door. He took a deep breath and met her eyes with his.

"Got a minute?" he asked. Mutely, she nodded and gestured him into her apartment. Her black and silver pajama bottoms slung low on her hips, an inch of porcelain skin revealed as her black tank top had ridden up slightly. It was still mind-blowing to him that this woman was carrying his child.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, walking into the kitchen. Wrangler padded after her after sniffing Don out. He sat down in the doorway of the kitchen and watched him. The man and the massive German Shepard had long since made friends, so Wrangler didn't appear worried at someone standing in his mistress's apartment. It was as if he had sensed Isabella's pregnancy and took it upon himself to protect both mother and child.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he responded. He fingered the box in his pocket, his fingers trailing over the black velvet. Would she think he was only asking because of the baby? Or would she think more rationally, that he was doing this purely for her?

"You're jumpy," she commented. "Like, prison bitch jumpy."

He snorted at the metaphor. "Yeah, I got a lot on my mind," he assured her. She held a mug in her hand and he saw the string sticking out of it, a tag attached.

"Don't worry, I'm watching my caffeine intake," she assured him as she took a sip. "This is decaf." When he merely stood there, she set her cup down on the bar.

"Okay, what's wrong?" she asked, her hands falling to her side. How the hell was he going to ask her to marry him without having it come across that he was trying to do the 'honorable thing' and 'do right by her'?

"I'm trying to think of a way to say this that you won't take it the wrong way," he responded. She instantly looked hurt and her big blue eyes widened. "And you're taking this the wrong way."

"Look, if you don't want to be a part of the baby's life, that's fine," she whispered. His eyes stretched wide as he stepped closer.

"No, no, no, no, no, that's not it at all," he insisted, lacing one arm around her waist. His other hand pressed against the flat planes of her stomach and he nudged her closer. "I want to be there every step of the way." Once again, it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that on the other side of his hand, her skin, blood, flesh, and muscles, lay an unborn child. His child. Was this what it felt like to be a father?

"Then, what is it?" she asked, tilting her head. He took a deep breath. This silly woman...

Donald Joseph Flack Jr wasn't the sentimental type at all. He never had been. But he needed to buck up and be a little bit out of character for the moment. This woman deserved more than just a gruff marriage proposal.

"Marry me," he stated. She pursed her lips and her hands fell to his wrists.

"You're not even gonna get down on one knee?" she joked. He pulled away and looked over at her.

"Do you want me to?" he asked. "I could be domestic and traditional."

She let out an unladylike snort. "There's not much that's traditional about you and me," she reminded him. "What brought this on? Was it because of the baby?"

He knew she would take it like that.

"No, no!" he attempted to assure her. "God, Iz, I've been thinking about this for weeks! I was going to ask you after you'd met my family, but Ian..."

"Died," she finished softly. Tears flooded her eyes as she spoke the word. "You can say it, Donnie."

"I didn't want you to get all upset," he murmured. She rested her head against his neck, her hands on his.

"Let me think about your offer," she said gently. "I just found out that I'm pregnant and I want to get used to the idea first."

That sounded good to him, he could do that.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask around. I asked a lot of people what they thought about us getting married," he said softly. "And I really want to do it."

"You're just worried I might run out on you," she teased, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

"Now, don't get all excited there, Lionheart," he warned. "If I recall, it started with a kiss."

"No, babies get made when a man puts his arm around a woman," she joked. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

"I want this," he told her. Her beautiful, always-expressive blue eyes gazed into his and he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. "We've tried to be apart, and how has that worked out?"

"Not very well," she whispered.

"Then, why should we not get married? People get married for less all the time. Some get married because the guy got the girl pregnant. Some get married for money," he listed off some words. Her lip curled as he spoke the second reason. The same reason she had nearly gotten married before. Money and power.

"Some get married for fun," she spoke up. He cradled her face in one large hand as his hand pressed against the small of her back.

"You and I? We love each other. God, I've been in love with you since I knocked you down at the lab all that time ago," he said. A soft smile spread across her features.

"Three years ago," she replied. "I remember, I really didn't like you then."

"Yeah, you used the word 'douche'," he reminded her. She let out a giggle and wrapped her arms around his neck. His own heart reacted wildly at the touch and he wrapped his other arm around her waist to press against the small of her back.

"Only 'cause I thought you were cute," she said. "And most definitely not my type."

"Funny how that worked out, huh, Lionheart?" he told her. Her smile remained on her face as she kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, it is," she replied.

* * *

><p>He had asked her to marry him. The thought left a smile on her face. This was something she really needed to think through, but it was hard to not get carried away. The father of her baby actually wanted something to do with both her and the baby. That was something not a lot of men wanted to do.<p>

Where had she gone so terribly right with him? He was the man she couldn't stand when she had first started working at the NYPD, and they'd been sort of comfortable friends. Later on down the road, he had made her feel as if she could tell him just about anything. It hadn't been long before she had let him in. He was her brother's partner; there wasn't a lot about the Pacino family he didn't know. Yet he still remained at her side. He encouraged her to be more than what she just appeared to be: the daughter of an NYPD legend.

She wanted to prove she was a lot more than that, and she did. With his help, she made a name for herself among the NYPD. With his help, she had learned to forgive.

With his help, she had learned to love again.


	56. Lucky

**_A/N: Alright, time for another chapter! OMG I found the perfect 'Flacino' song...listen to 'My Destiny' by Katharine McPhee. It's perfect for them...I heard it for the first time today and I was like: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO:"_**

**_RaiN: Thanks lol. Frankie and Isabella will be third on my list of favorite couples lol. First is 'Flacino', second is 'Messino.' It's a very sensible worry, though, you have to admit, even though we all know that Don would never leave Isabella because she's pregnant! I'm glad you still love 'Flacino', they're a pretty good couple in my book! I am a little jealous of their relationship, because I think girls everywhere want the kind of love Don has for her...I'm most likely going to end it when the baby's born, so it'll have a happy ending (finally!) so glad you enjoy it!_**

* * *

><p><em>I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend<em>

_Lucky to have been where I have been_

_Lucky to be coming home again_

_Ooh, ooh ooh ooh_

_They don't how long it takes_

_Waiting for a love like this_

Jason Mraz ft. Colbie Callait — Lucky

* * *

><p>Isabella folded her hands on her stomach, feeling tears flood her eyes. She was going to tell everyone about the baby now. Don slid his hand in hers and kissed her gently. Her heart swelled ten thousand times its normal size as she looked at him. God, she was so in love with this man. It scared her sometimes, but other times it was what kept her going.<p>

"Ready?" he murmured to her. She nodded, allowing a tear to slip down her cheek. The hormones was driving her nuts right now, she had cried during the ASPCA commercial and she had cried for two hours in the break room of the lab yesterday.

"As ready as I can be," she replied. He held the door open to Sullivan's and they walked in together. "It's a little ironic that we're telling everyone at a bar."

"Yeah, I know, you can't drink," Don said. She looked up at him sketpically.

"Well, I can, I just won't," she replied. He frowned down at her as he helped her into a booth. Lindsay had just returned from Montana a little shaky and looked like she could use some good news. "But I think we should wait a while to tell them about us getting married."

He was quiet for a minute before a teasing look glinted in his electric blue eyes. "Thinkin' about skippin' out on me, Pacino?" he joked. She looked down at her stomach and raised her eyebrow.

"Well, you keep me at a slow pace, does it look like I can do much skipping?" she prompted.

"Oh wait, you're finally going to rebel against your mother's side of the family once and for all and marry Danny, aren't you?" he said. She rolled her eyes and nudged him.

"You caught me, Don. Danny and I have been carrying on our torrid love affair since the day I started working in the lab," she replied dramatically. "We're just meant to be."

"You're just like your father," he teased. She let out a giggle and rested her head on his shoulder.

"That still sort of makes you gay," she told him, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. He nudged her gently. "I mean, c'mon. A girl can overlook "if you were a man, I'd ask you to help me" but I'm not sure if I can overlook "you're just like your father.""

"Smartass," he teased. "You know what I mean."

"Aw, you know you love me," she said. He bent up her chin to kiss her.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "I love you very much."

"I love you too," she told him.

"Okay, lovebirds, break it up," Danny's voice caused them to pull away. He slid into his spot beside her.

"Aw, look, I got my boys with me," she teased. "Where's Lindsay?"

"Right here," the Montanan native chirped. Isabella reached over the table to hug her.

"How was Montana?" she asked. "I've been so busy that I wasn't able to give you a call."

"It's okay," Lindsay assured her. "It was freeing to see the man being put behind bars."

"I can imagine," Isabella murmured. She drummed her fingers on the table and took a deep breath. Where were the others? Hawkes already knew and he would pull her aside to ask her how she was doing. The sound of the ASPCA commercial caused tears to flood her vision. Oh, damn...

"It's okay, Isabella, they're only a little bit late," Danny assured her. She blinked quickly and shook her head.

"That damn ASPCA commercial caused quite a breakdown at the lab yesterday," she said with a laugh.

"Was that what that was?" he asked, looking up at the TV.

"She may as well say: "Hi, I'm Sarah McLaughlin and I'm about to ruin your whole fucking day"," she said with a chuckle and wiped her eyes.

"I know, it's weird, isn't it?" Lindsay said. Isabella nodded and saw Mac, Stella, Adam, and Hawkes walk into the bar.

"You ready for this?" Don murmured in her ear. She nodded again and had Don let her out of the booth to hug everyone.

"Well, we called everyone here for a reason," she said. She looked at everyone with a wide smile. "Some of you know what I'm about to say."

Hawkes sat stone-faced next to Adam and Lindsay, his eyes on her intently.

"I'm pregnant," she finally announced. Lindsay and Stella both let out a shriek. Danny turned around and slapped Don on the shoulder in congratulations.

"How far along are you?" Lindsay asked, shoving Danny out of the way. Her eyes were bright with excitement.

"I'm about ten, almost eleven weeks along now," Isabella replied.

"You might carry more in the front, than in the back," Lindsay commented. Isabella's eyes widened.

"Dammit! I can't hide _that _behind a big purse," she muttered. Lindsay patted her arm and Stella hugged her gently.

"I'm happy for you, sweetie," she told her. Her green eyes settled on Don. "Both of you."

"That's assuming Flack's the father," Danny commented. Isabella rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrow at him.

"No, Danny, it's you," she remarked dryly. "Babies are made with long talks and putting your arm around my shoulder."

* * *

><p>"So, what's the plan?" Lindsay asked while they were in the bathroom at the lab. Isabella looked at her friend in confusion, before elaborating.<p>

"I meant with you and Flack," she explained. "Are you two going to get married, or what?"

Isabella shrugged, feeling her face warm. "Well, it would look like he's doing it to 'do the right thing' if we got married," she pointed out.

"Not in this case," Lindsay said with a shake of her head. "He really loves you, everyone can see it."

"I really love him," Isabella replied softly. "More than I ever thought possible."

"I hope you two are really happy together," Lindsay told her. Isabella hugged her back and wiped her eyes.

"God, now I'm gonna cry again!" she complained. Looking down at her stomach, she frowned. "How about a little leeway here? If I'm not throwing up, I'm crying my eyes out!"

The two women walked out of the bathroom, looking for the table. Isabella walked back over and nudged her way into the booth.

"Am I safe?" she asked, looking up at the TV. It was a sports commercial. "Yep."

"Safe from what?" Stella chuckled.

"The ASPCA commercial," Isabella replied. "I saw it yesterday at the lab and I cried for two hours."

"Was that what that was?" Adam asked. She slapped his shoulder playfully and drummed her fingers on the table.

"Any weird cravings?" Stella asked. Isabella chuckled and shook her head.

"The only thing I've been craving are chicken and cheese quesadillas with sour cream or salsa and blue raspberry Ice-ees," she replied. "But I love both those things, so it's not really a craving."

"Yeah, you're out of Nutella for the first time in, what, as long as I've known you?" Danny teased. She snapped her fingers, remembering.

"I forgot about that," she replied. "Yeah, Nutella and fruit have been major."

"Well, healthy eating is beneficial to the baby's development," Hawkes said. Isabella chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you, my mother?" she joked, nudging him. "Don't worry, I have tons of healthy stuff at my apartment."

"And no caffeine," he told her. "There's a very little amount that doctors allow for pregnant women, but it's just best to not have any."

"Hawkes, let her have at least a _little _bit of caffeine," Don said. "Please."

"See? Both he and Danny have seen me without caffeine," Isabella told him. "It's not pretty."

"Yeah, she's not a morning person," Danny spoke up. Isabella looked over her shoulder to glare at him. He held up his hands. "Hey, I'm on your side here."

"Sure, you are," she retorted.


	57. Unbelievable

**_A/N: Okay, so it's time to write more c:_**

**_MesserGirl: I know, right? XD I love Nutella. And yes, there will be a wedding 8D_**

**_RaiN: God, yes she is! She reminds me of my sister, Brittany when she was pregnant with my niece. Isabella practically writes herself, that's what I love most about writing her, is because she is so adaptable. And I had so much fun writing all those funny lines, I was giggling to myself. If Isabella doesn't smack people, she gets them with her razor-sharp wit ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>It's unbelievable, but I believe you<em>

_Unforgivable, but I forgave you_

_Insane what love can do_

_It keeps me coming back to you_

Kaci Brown — Unbelievable

* * *

><p>As Isabella's pregnancy progressed, her belly started to grow. At about four months, she felt a tiny little flutter in her stomach and she set down her paperwork to rest a hand on it, feeling its firm roundness. The baby was moving. Tears formed in her eyes as she felt a tiny little kick.<p>

"Whoa, are you okay?" she heard Don ask. She looked up and nodded.

"The baby just kicked," she replied softly. In a flash, he moved his chair over to her. Isabella gently took his hand and rested it on her rounded stomach. Moving it around a bit, she waited for the baby to move again. When she felt it kick, Don's eyes softened.

"It feels weird," he murmured. She felt her smile widen as she felt it move.

"This is worth getting my ass kicked internally," she commented. "Seriously, it's been-ow!" She felt a sharp pain in her rib-cage.

"Hey, you need to be nice to your mom," Don warned her stomach. She let out a less pained chuckle.

"If this kid's anything like me, it'll take being strapped to a chair to listen," she said.

"Hey, I wasn't a picnic either," Don reminded her. She snorted.

"Oh, please, I talked to your mom," she said. "According to her, you were the easiest child to deal with. My mom raised me and Ian by herself. Ian was the good kid, I was a monster."

"So, here's to hoping this one will take after me and his uncle," he replied. She raised her eyebrow in skepticism.

"Oh really? It could be a girl," she informed him. His turn to raise a few eyebrows.

"Oh, please, Isabella. Your mom had two boys, my mom had _three _boys," he said.

"Yeah, well, both boys in your family had girls and my brother had a girl. It's not impossible that this could be a girl, too," she pointed out.

His blue eyes sparkled devilishly as his gaze met hers.

"Gambling's illegal in the state of New York, Isabella," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you're only going all cop 'cause you know I'm right," she said. "But we're not naming the baby 'Donald' if it's a boy."

His face instantly fell. "Why not?" he asked. "The family name needs to be passed on."

"But weren't you the one who said that because you were named after your dad, that you felt entitled to be a cop?" she said. "I know that's how it felt for Levi."

"But your dad was named after his dad," Don pointed out. "And he didn't take over the Pacino crime family."

"It wasn't easy on him," Isabella argued. "Nonno and Daddy are still at odds over it."

"So, Donald is definitely out," Don said. It was clear he was disappointed over this and she nearly reconsidered. What she hadn't considered before, was if this was important to him. Clearly, it was.

"It's an option," she finally conceded. "If it's a boy, I want Ian Patrick, after my brother."

"Donald Ian?" he offered. A slow smile crossed her features until she nodded.

"Fine," she agreed. Compromise, she decided, was better than her fiancee being as stubborn as a mule.

"Girl names?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I kinda like the name Avery Grace," she said quietly. His eyes flashed at the name 'Grace.' "Or Avery Michelle."

"There are the names," he said. "And here, parents fight about the names the entire pregnancy."

"Well, once again, we're not like most parents," she reminded him.

* * *

><p>"Pregnancy is so not what TV and movies make it out to be," Isabella complained inwardly in the courthouse. She was told she needed to testify on Mac's behalf, seeing as she had been there with the responding team as her last field duty case when Clay Dobson had jumped off a building and crashed into a police car, killing himself.<p>

"Detective Pacino, it's true that you're pregnant, right?" the defense attorney asked. Isabella nodded, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, but that has nothing to do with Detective Taylor," she replied.

"Then, why were you at the Weddington Hotel?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye. She swallowed before continuing.

"It was my last case before being removed from the field and being put on lab duty," she replied. "I wasn't showing then and I had people with me."

"So, you depend on Detectives Bonasera, Flack, and Taylor?" he asked. Isabella fought the urge to snort and kept her tone mild.

"I have a specific level of trust with them," she corrected. "I trust each and every one of the CSIs I work with, plus Detective Flack. I'm not so dumb as to think that my way of thinking wasn't dangerous, but it had been scoped out prior to my arrival and was deemed safe. In the case of an emergency, I can defend myself."

"Why don't you tell us what happened at the hotel, Isabella?" the defense attorney asked. Isabella bit her lip hard to keep her retorts to herself.

_That's why I'm here, dumbass, _she thought to herself. _Not to discuss my pregnancy._

"We found the victim on the mattress, she was bound and gagged. When Detective Bonasera pulled the gag away from her mouth, she immediately started sobbing and saying that Clay was going to return for her and kill her, presumably," she said smoothly.

"Did Detective Taylor give any notice to his leaving after that?" he asked. Isabella shook her head.

"No," she replied.

"Tell me this, Detective, do you believe that Mac Taylor would kill someone like Clay Dobson?" he asked.

"Depending on the circumstances. In a matter of life and death, I believe he would," she replied. She had always been picked to testify in cases in Wilmington, due to her competence in court.

"Did you process the roof, Detective Pacino?" he asked. Isabella shook her head.

"I did go over the field reports thoroughly," she answered.

"Did you double-check Dr. Sheldon Hawkes and Adam Ross's work?" he asked.

"I don't understand the question," she replied. It was clear he was grasping at straws, trying to find a hole in her story to use against Mac. It was up to her to make sure it didn't happen.

"Did you go up onto the roof to double-check their findings?" he asked. She shook her head again.

"I don't have to," she responded. "Their reports were consistent."

* * *

><p>During recess, she stood at the water fountain and took a sip of the icy water.<p>

"God, I hate defense attorneys," she growled. "They always act so high and mighty."

"Well, you gave him something to think about," Don pointed out. "I can't believe they dragged the baby into this. Next thing you know, they're gonna petition to have all of the NYPD attend another lecture about safety."

"Detective Flack, Detective Pacino," Gerard said, nodding to them as he stood outside of the room. Sinclair stood beside them, clearly smug. Isabella had never liked the two men, and she knew they felt the same way. Most cops were afraid to stick up to them, but she had refused to let them bully her.

"Sirs," she addressed them, her hand going over her stomach. Sinclair's eyes followed her movement.

"How far along?" he asked, clearly trying to make conversation.

"Four months," she replied carefully.

"You know, Mac's guilty of this," Gerard piped up. "We can't afford to have another dirty cop on the street."

"Then we should focus on taking down the crooked cops and leave the clean ones alone," Isabella muttered. With those words, he was doubting her ability as a CSI.

"You know, Flack, you're a smart cop and I know that you'll do what's right," Gerard informed Don. Don moved a little closer to Isabella, his narrowed eyes on his captain.

"I do my best, sir," he replied carefully. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was the father of the baby. No one was going to touch his son or daughter.

"It's a pity you're only Third Grade," Sinclair added. "Smart boy like you's ready to move up, and you've got something else to think about." Clear warning shot at the baby.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabella wanted to ask. They were bribing him to testify against Mac.

"Look, whatever happened between me and Mac is straight now," Don informed them. "It's done, Truby's behind bars." When the two men walked away, he looked down at her.

"The hell was that?" he asked. Isabella frowned, her gaze on them.

"I don't know, but it looked to me like they were offering you a promotion to testify against Mac," she replied.


	58. Family Ties

**_A/N: Guys, please pray for my best friend's mom! She's dying...well, they say she's been dying for a long time now, but she doesn't have much time left. She's like my second mom and has taken care of me when my own mom wasn't able to..._**

**_About this chapter: This idea's been in my head for a week or so...we know that Isabella was in Italy prior to her trip to Ireland, so what did she do in Italy? This is told from her summer love's point of view, his name is Carlo Moretti. Also being told from Isabella's point of view..._**

**_RaiN: Oh my, you see it too? I was like: "There's something they're not telling us..." but yes, I think there's definitely a secret relationship going on between Jo and Don *Lucky bitch!* I've never experienced pregnancy before, but people very close to me have, so I have a clue on what goes on underneath the surface, so to speak. I know already that if I feel a baby kick inside of me, it'd be one of the scariest, yet most incredible and surreal moments of my life! But yes, I agree with the whole Jo/Flack thing. I get so incredibly jealous when I see him with other girls, I'm like: DDDDD: WHYYYY_**

**_Shu: I know, Gerard is one of my least favorite people on CSI:NY! I hate him, too! Glad you liked the pregnancy plot, I thought I should let Izzy have a happy ending for once ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>They say bad things happen for a reason<em>

_But no wise words are gonna stop the bleeding_

_'Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving_

_And when a heart breaks, no it don't break even_

The Script — Breakeven

* * *

><p>Carlo paced through the halls of the warehouse where he worked. He had been a member of Hombre Lama, a gang that worked in close contact with the Mafia of Massa-Carrara for as long as he could remember. He had born into it, he had been blessed into it by Armando Pacino the First, with Carlo Moretti the First. Being blessed into Hombre Lama had saved him the pain of what everyone called "The Thirteen Second Welcome", meaning that lackeys wanting to jump in, had to sustain a beating for thirteen seconds without being able to defend themselves. The ones who carried Pacino or Moretti blood were always taken in the hardest.<p>

"Carlo, are you ready to go?" Armando asked, his dark eyes resting on the younger man. Carlo smirked, flashing a set of white teeth. A while back, he had had a fling with Armando's granddaughter, Isabella while she was visiting for the summer. He had been devastated when she had gone on to Ireland to live with her other set of grandparents, one he still nursed to this day.

_"Carlo Moretti, you couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat!" Isabella Pacino crowed, her blue-flame eyes dancing mischievously from the water. Her dark hair was plastered to her face and she wore a grin alongside her baby blue bikini. Her head bobbed out of the water as she watched him._

_"Looks like I'm gonna have to prove you wrong, innamorato," Carlo told her, hopping off the dock and landing in the lake. He slithered up behind her and laced his arms around her waist._

_"You won't forget me when I go to Belfast, will you?" Isabella murmured, her wet cheek and hair pressing against his shoulder blade._

_"Me forget a girl like you?" he asked, turning so she faced him. He touched his forehead to hers. "Never."_

"Are Lacey and Lily ready to go?" Carlo asked. It had been his duty to keep an eye on Lacey Fuentes and Lily Pacino during their stay in Massa-Carrara. Lily Pacino was Armando Pacino the Third's daughter, Isabella's niece.

"Yes, my wife has them all ready to go," Armando replied. It was easy to tell the older man was anxious to get to America to see his grandchildren and check on business in New York.

"It'll be good to see Armando's children," Carlo commented. "I haven't heard a word from the others."

Armando's eyes seemed to glisten a bit before he spoke. "Ian is dead, Junior is anxiously awaiting his bride, and Isabella is getting married."

* * *

><p>He had only a little while to stop the wedding. Carlo had no idea how long she had known this man, but he knew he couldn't let her marry him.<p>

"Isabella," Armando called gently, knocking on the door. "E 'Nonno."

When the door opened, the petite figure of Isabella was revealed. She was even more beautiful than she was when Carlo had met her in Italy. Clearly, she had grown into her looks. Her once short raven hair was now long and her blue-flame eyes met his dark browns. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose-fitting purple striped T-shirt.

"Carlo?" She said his name a little breathlessly, as if he were the last person she expected to see. Carlo smirked at his old summer love and held out his arms.

"E 'stato troppo lungo, Isabella," he told her. She stretched onto her toes and gave him a hug. Wait a minute...was that a bump he felt?

[It's been too long, Isabella]

"Essa ha, infatti," she agreed.

[It has, indeed]

"Armando, move and let me see my granddaughter!" Isabella Rossi's voice came from the hallway. Isabella Pacino's eyes lit up as her grandmother came into view.

"Nonna!" she said. Grandmother and granddaughter embraced fiercely and Isabella Rossi's hand went to her granddaughter's stomach.

"Come è il bambino che cresce?" she asked.

[How is the little baby growing?]

Isabella Rossi's words confirmed Carlo's worst fears...

Isabella Pacino was getting married to someone who had gotten her pregnant.

* * *

><p>"Nonno, si può parlare solo in cucina, per favore?" Isabella asked Nonno. He nodded and followed her into the kitchen. She planted her hands on her hips and looked over at Carlo, who looked as devilishly handsome as ever, the jerk. Age had treated him very, very well. He was no longer the wildly romantic, yet rough and tough seventeen year old gangster she had fallen for in Italy. In the boy's place, stood a man who knew much fight and much pain. She could feel his cocoa-brown eyes on her as she spoke to her grandfather.<p>

[Nonno, can we talk in the kitchen alone, please?]

"What the hell is Carlo Moretti doing here?" she hissed at her grandfather. Her grandfather looked unashamed at her accusations as he stared her down.

"He protected Lacey and Lily in Italy," he simply responded. "I figured you might like to see him."

It was her grandfather's way of putting that he did not approve of Isabella's upcoming marriage to Don. Don was a cop, therefore, unable to protect Isabella and her unborn child.

"What put that thought in your head, Nonno?" she demanded. "I'm getting married to someone else, to _the father of my child_, nonetheless."

"Isabella, he's a cop," Nonno reminded her. Isabella's eyes narrowed into tiny slits as she glared at her grandfather. "There are some resources that he does not have his hands on for necessary precautions in yours and the baby's safety."

"Oh, and Carlo does?" she implored. "Nonno, I'm a grown woman, which is something you and the other members of my family don't seem to have your heads wrapped around. I'm also a cop, which gives me more than enough protection. I don't need special protection because I'm your granddaughter. I need support."

"He's a Mick, Isabella," he said. The pregnancy hormones made her want to punch her grandfather straight in the face for using such a racial slur.

"How _dare _you come into my home and insult my fiancee, the father of your great-grandchild?" she snarled. Her hands balled into fists at her side. "Once again, that's what it all boils down to with you! Race! My mother's a Mick, are you going to insult her, too? I'm half-Irish, are you going to insult me?"

Racism had fueled so much of her hate against so much in this world, that she just wanted it to stop.

"I'm marrying Don Flack because I love him, Nonno. He loves me too, for some unknown reason. Not because I'm pregnant."

He stood stone-faced as she continued her hormone-enraged rant.

"I don't approve because of what I know," he told her. "He is a Third Grade Homicide Detective. He makes enough to support himself, and that's it. There's no way he can support you and the baby!"

The rage grew into fury as she glared at him. "First off, I plan on continuing to work until I can't work anymore. Furthermore, Don's salary is none of your damn business! And lastly, you know absolutely nothing about him."

With that, she greeted her future sister-in-law and niece with tight hugs. Nonna hugged her tightly, babbling excitedly in Italian over how excited she was that Isabella was finally expecting. What a wonderful mother she would make!

The only thing that seemed to be missing, was the support of one of the people she held the highest, utmost respect for.


	59. Cops, Mobsters, and Drama! Oh My!

**_A/N: Okay, so I have had responses about Nonno, lol. It seems as though he's a gigantic asshat! I've decided that the reception and the first dance is the last chapter of 'Chain Reaction.'_**

**_Shu: Yeah, I've been really close to her since I was ten :c Thanks for the support! And Nonno...God, I don't even know who he reminds me of! He's on the wrong side of the law, but he will protect his family with a vengeance! He also has no issues with making his disapproval known, unfortunately!_**

**_RaiN: I know, thanks :c I've known her since I was ten and she's my sister's mother-in-law. And yes, I'd seen it since the beginning! I wouldn't be surprised if they unveiled a secret relationship ;D I loved what Adam said, I giggled the entire time! I couldn't help but think of Isabella's reaction to it XDD It would've been like: "Are you trying to impersonate a Southern belle or a gay man?" But I think Nonno will come around when he meets Don and sees that he's the only man fit for his granddaughter!_**

**_Thank you all for the support about my friend's mom :c It means a lot! _**

* * *

><p><em>One of these days, maybe your magic won't affect me<em>

_And your kiss won't make me weak_

_But no one in this world knows me the way you know me_

_So, you'll probably always have a spell on me, yeah_

Rihanna ft. Ne-Yo — Hate That I Love You

* * *

><p>Isabella rested her head on her desk at the lab as she took a brief break from typing up case notes.<p>

"Hey, preggo," Danny greeted her as he walked into the office. Isabella looked up at him and scoffed.

"Do me a favor, Messer," she requested. He looked quizzical as she handed him her jacket. "Hold that over my face until I stop twitching."

"Ah, baby's driving you nuts already?" Danny commented as he laid the jacket on the back of her chair. She shook her head.

"Oh no, the baby's just fine," she replied. "It's my family that's driving me up the wall."

"That's family for ya," he said. "They ain't family until they've driven you to madness."

"Oh no, it's my dad's side of the family," she informed him. "Nonno and Nonna are in town to make sure Lacey and Lily are settled in."

That got Danny's attention as he sat in the desk next to hers. "Get outta here, Old Man Pacino's in New York?"

Isabella nodded. "Yep, and he seemed to think it was a good idea to bring along my ex-boyfriend," she replied. His cornflower blue eyes stretched wide as he gaped at her.

"He didn't," he stated. She nodded again.

"Oh, he did," she confirmed. "Even more than that, the guy's mobbed up to his ears, but apparently, he's more cut out to be a father than Don is."

"Does he have dementia? Or is he just stupid?" Danny asked bluntly.

"Nonno looks out for everyone else's best interests with a magnifying glass," Isabella explained. "Apparently, he's looked into Don's salary and deems him financially unfit to be a father."

"Yeah, Flack's also got that Irish blood working against him. Plus, he's a cop," Danny said. "But your grandfather loves you and your little bambino."

"I know he loves me!" she growled in exasperation. "But he apparently thinks a gang member is a better influence on my child than its father, who's a cop."

"Yeah, I'm just shocked they haven't tracked him down and offered him money to stay away from you," Danny said.

"I'm blessed they didn't do that," she replied, rubbing the waterline of her eyes. She felt the baby doing little flips in her stomach, as if it were trying to calm her. Isabella definitely needed to relax. It wasn't just her she was having to take it easy on now. Her baby needed to be relaxed.

* * *

><p>Don's gaze settled on the unsettled figure of his fiancee as they walked down the hall. He heard voices on the other side of the wall and raised an eyebrow.<p>

"Do you have company?" he asked. She nodded, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Yeah, Nonno, Nonna, Lacey, and Lily are here," she responded. "I'd invite you in, but it's a jungle in there."

He let out a chuckle. "I'm gonna have to meet your favorite grandparents soon," he reminded her. Her eyes grew soft and she reached onto her toes to give him a kiss.

"I know, it's just not a good time right now," she told him. Something in her eyes told him she was hiding something. When his face fell, she kissed him again.

"Come over in about two hours, Nonna's made homemade manicotti," she offered. "It's better than anything you'll ever taste."

When suspicion grew inside of him until it niggled in him, Don looked at the clock. He had to go over in about fifteen minutes, but it never hurt him before to arrive early. He fixed the hem of his black muscle shirt and buckled his jeans. Nervousness clawed at the suspicion until the two emotions battled for dominance as he crossed the floor in his apartment. When he opened the door, Isabella's door did the same. Don's eyes locked onto the large framed man.

The other man said nothing and instead walked away. The burning hate in the man's eyes was what had caught Don's attention and he reached out to knock on the door.

The door flung open, revealing the little girl behind. Lily's eyes brightened.

"Hey, Lily, remember me?" Don said to her. Lily bobbed her head, her dark pigtails swishing.

"C'mon in, Auntie told me to get the door for you," she replied, pulling him in by the wrist. He chuckled and walked into the apartment. A very tall man was standing in the kitchen alongside a short, stout woman.

"Wait, is that him?" Isabella's Southern drawl was heard from her bedroom as she walked out. "Please tell me that Carlo left."

Was that who the hateful man was in the hallway?

"Yep, he's here, Auntie!" Lily chirped. She wore a pink flowered dress and bare feet. Wrangler lifted his head and let out a bark of greeting, his nails skittering on the floor as he bounded over to Don. Don rubbed his pelt, patting his side. The great dog sat down on his feet and looked up at him as if to say "You're not done yet."

Don looked up to see Isabella walk into the room, her bare feet padding on the hardwood. She wore a pair of black jeans and a red, loose-fitting button-down shirt.

"Hey, you're early," she greeted him with a kiss. "Nonno, Nonna, he's here!"

The short woman from the kitchen let out a happy exclaim and walked out of the kitchen. She was clearly Italian, with gray hair and a wrinkled, tan face and smiling brown eyes.

"Hello!" she greeted him with a thick Italian accent. "I'm Isabella Rossi-Pacino, but in order to keep me and my granddaughter straight, you can call me Nonna."

Don shook her hand, and the woman had quite a grip. "I'm Don Flack," he replied. Nonna's eyes widened as she gazed up at him.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," she said. "Isabella's spoken a lot about you."

Don knew the tall man in the kitchen. The man needed no introduction. It was Armando Pacino the First, the founder of Shadow's Blade and the original head of the Pacino crime family.

* * *

><p>Oh yes, Isabella knew inviting her fiancee over for dinner was a wonderful idea! Sarcasm, of course.<p>

"So, Don, what do you do?" Nonno asked. His tone was condescending as he looked at the younger man. Isabella's fork clattered to her plate and she glared at her grandfather.

"Nonno..." she warned. "Non andarci, voglio dire." [Don't go there, I mean it.]

"Isabella," he snapped. "E 'una domanda semplice. Sicuramente, non è possibile che mi rimpiangere." [It's a simple question. Surely, you can't begrudge me that.]

"Posso quando è una domanda irriverente. Si sta facendo a guardare dall'alto in basso di lui," she replied. [I can when it's a disrespectful question. You're doing it to look down on him.]

"Isabella," Nonna said gently, resting her hand on Isabella's wrist.

"It's okay, you of all people know I'm proud of myself and our job," Don told her, his hand resting on her knee. "I'm a Homicide detective. I met Isabella on her first day at the lab."

"Yep, inviting a cop to a dinner with mobsters was my greatest idea ever! Great idea, Isabella!" she muttered under her breath. When the conversation seemed to escalate to an argument, she saw Don tense. Nonno was getting too personal.

"So, you kill people who kill others to show people that killing people is bad?" Nonno finally said. There was no trace of amusement in his gaze as he glared at him.

"Actually, no, I only kill people in a matter of life and death in self-defense," Don replied, his voice curt. Isabella narrowed her eyes at her grandfather.

"Nonno, stop," she warned. "That's enough."

"What, we're all having lively conversation here," Nonno said, feigning innocence.

"Nonno, I know you and this is not innocent," Isabella said. She stood up and took her plate into the kitchen. "Leave that issue alone."


	60. From Italian Mobsters to Irish Mobsters

**_A/N: Okay, so I saw my friend's mom today...the cancer's really bad :c She's really thin now, she can't eat, and she's lost her hair...and the news was broken to me yesterday that this was the last time I'm ever going to see her..._**

**_Peaches: I'm hoping to! _**

**_Shu: Ha ha, yeah, Nonno definitely is! And lol at "douchenozzle!"_**

**_RaiN: Yes, I enjoy our little review chats! I firmly believe there is a secret relationship between Jo and Flack...and when I'm proved right, I'm gonna jump on my couch and scream like a madman. (I enjoy being right, as you can see...) Danny and Isabella have such a close friendship, I always love writing it (even though they're not in a relationship in this...) because they have that common ground. It's like, they wordlessly know what's going on with each other. I have to use a translator with Italian, so I don't know a lick of it xD I have a friend who speaks Spanish fluently and it drives me nuts, 'cause I don't know if he's dissing me or not! _**

**_Nicky: I know, I'm sorry :C If it's any consolation, I miss Ian! The part with Nonno and Don actually was inspired last minute by a discussion with a friend of mine. She just said: "Bombing for peace is like screwing for virginity and killing killers to show people that killing is bad."_**

* * *

><p><em>If I stay, it won't be long<em>

_Till I'm burning on the inside_

_If I go, I can only hope_

_That I make it to the other side_

Three Days Grace — Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella's chest with each breath after her rant against her grandfather. She didn't care of Nonno's influence. She didn't need to put up with him and his constant Italian bashing against her fiancee. Racism had ruled her life for so long, it felt amazing to get it off her chest.<p>

_"He's unfit, Isabella," Nonno had said. Right in front of Don. _

_"That's my decision!" she snapped. "I'm sick of you and everyone else trying to make my decisions for me. I'm a grown woman and I can handle a little bit of hardship for once in my life! I love Don, he's a wonderful man and he sees no color with me. He doesn't give a damn that I'm half-Irish. He only gives a damn that I don't let the racism that's been pounded into my head from day one run my life. So, I'm going to have this baby with him, and I don't give a flying fuck whether or not you like it. Because it's not your life, it's not your decision, and it's not your baby."_

Outside of Don's apartment, Isabella looked up at him apologetically.

"See why I've put off having you meet my family?" she said. He chuckled and gave her a hug.

"Hey, your grandma seemed to like me," he pointed out. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. Leave it to him to turn around a completely crappy evening.

"Nonna is my favorite grandmother ever," she replied. "She likes you because you make me happy. She's the kind that is happy when others are happy."

"So, if you didn't like me, she wouldn't?" he said. She rolled her eyes and stretched onto her toes to kiss him.

"Well, she's a very open-hearted person," she explained. "If you were a serial killer, she'd like you. Because you make me happy and I love you."

"She's a pretty awesome woman," he agreed. "You were named after her?" She nodded, looking down. She felt the baby kick in her stomach, as if to remind her that the manicotti she had eaten earlier would be coming back to bite her in the ass.

"Yeah, I was," she replied. "In Italy, it's a great honor to have someone give their name to you."

"You coming into the lab tomorrow?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, for a bit. Remember, that CI tipped you off on that raid. Mac wants me on the scene first thing," she replied. The Irish Mafia had been involved, and she knew he had purposely left out the part about the CI being one of her own: Carmen Sanchez. She worked both sides, both the streets and, grudgingly, "the blue", as she called it.

"Is it safe for you to be processing scenes?" he asked, his hand resting on her stomach. She smiled and rested her hand over his.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "It's not terribly overwhelming for me to bend down and I'll sit if it feels like too much."

"Just be careful," he said. She nuzzled his neck and felt his arms securely wrap around her. God, she loved this man.

"You too," she replied.

* * *

><p>Isabella held her kit in her hand at the warehouse.<p>

"Adam?" she called. "Are you here?"

"Izzy, don't! Leave..." Adam coughed. Something was wrong. She could hear him, but she couldn't see him. That was bad.

Isabella walked around the truck and saw his kit laying open. _Where the hell is he? _When she turned around and saw him, she nearly dropped her kit.

"Set down your kit," a thick Irish accent commanded. "And get in the truck." When she turned around, she saw him pointing a gun at her and her stomach dropped to her feet.

She did as she was told through narrowed eyes. "Resorting to getting your stuff back by threatening a couple of lab techs?" she said, holding her hands up.

"Give me your badge," the man commanded. Isabella slapped his hands away as he went for her belt. His hand flew back, striking her face. She balled her fists, wishing like hell that she wasn't pregnant. She would show him just how scrappy the NYPD were.

"Kiss my half-Italian ass," she snarled. He struck her again and shoved her towards the truck.

"Get this guinea out of here before I kill her," he said. She felt hands grip her arms and roughly shove her into the trailer.

"Izzy, don't fight! Think of the baby," Adam begged. At the sound of 'baby', she was pulled back out.

"Boys, we have another bargaining chip," the man from before informed them. Isabella's eyes were on his face, scrapping for any sort of familiarity. He was from the Wilder gang, Southern Ireland. No ties at all to Clan O'Malley. His unkempt black hair hung in his face, his face scruffy.

Isabella gritted her teeth as she was dragged. "Careful! You already know I'm pregnant, pogue!" she snapped. A blade slid under her jaw, keeping her face upwards.

"Boss, she's a Pacino," one of the men called. Her blood went cold at the statement, sitting like ice in her veins. Oh, no...

Either they were going to let her go, kill her, or she had better hope like hell that the NYPD caught on soon.

* * *

><p>"Call Detective Flack," the man commanded, shoving a phone in her face. Isabella writhed against him, trying to wrench herself free. When she felt a gun muzzle against her stomach, she quickly obeyed. "Get him to come and rescue you and your friends."<p>

_"Yeah, this is Detective Flack," her fiancee's business-like tone came over the phone. _She let out a sob of relief at the sound of his voice. _"Hello?"_

"Donnie, it's Iz," she said gently. There was a crash of movement on the other line as she heard him move around. A soft murmur of 'Lionheart' came over the line. She had never been happier to hear her nickname.

_"Is everything alright? Whose number is this?" he asked. _She let out a cough and looked up at the man.

"Look, there's a problem at the scene," she said, her voice shaking. "We need backup."

_"How's the baby?" he asked, his tone softening. "Is he or she okay?"_

"Yeah, it's fine," she assured him, her hand coming to rest on her stomach. "Danny and Adam are really messed up, bring a bus."

_"Sure thing, babe," he replied. "Just do as they say, alright? Don't let them find out you're Pacino. Wilder gang and Pacinos have never gotten along and they'll kill you."_

"They already know," she whispered. "And about the baby."


	61. Search and Rescue

**_A/N: Okay, so this story and my R&I story will be updated periodically tomorrow...I have tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday off to write!_**

**_Primeval: Thanks! So nice to have a new reviewer :3_**

**_Messer: Ha ha, thanks! I love to write it c:_**

**_RaiN: Me too! Lol and Ikr? My Friday nights are getting tied up now. But yes, pregnancy makes Isabella just that bit more ballsy, I think. But don't worry, because when Nonno finds out Isabella's been taken hostage by the Irish mob, Don's gonna have some choice words with him! And yes, I love Don's haircut this season. I literally squealed when I saw it. My brother's just like: "Oh dear God..." But as Shakespeare pointed out in Romeo and Juliet "The course of true love never did run smooth", so there needed to be more tense. Isabella's fighting for something that's real in her life and no one's going to take it from her!_**

* * *

><p><em>When you fall, so spent from emotion<em>

_She is what brings you to your feet_

_Where challenges lie on the verge of destruction_

_She pulls you back and she gives you wings_

_Death won't hold you as tight as she will_

Atreyu — Her Portrait In Black

* * *

><p>Don loaded his shotgun and slammed the door of the police car. He tried to stifle his panic as he flicked the safety onto the gun and slung it over his back.<p>

"Now, remember, guys. Those men in there have bigger guns than we do that can do a lot more damage," he said, looking at his crew. Slowly, each man nodded. "And remember that one of the detectives in there is pregnant. That gives them a little bit more of an advantage, but we do not shoot if she is in sight."

Murmurs of "yes, sir" filled the air. His eyes rested on Lindsay, who tightened her Kevlar and loaded her gun.

"You got the bot?" she asked, her brown eyes firing with determination. Don simply smirked as he nodded.

"Oh yeah, I got the bot," he replied. It was search and rescue time, there would be no technicalities in this. After a uniform sent it in by remote, all they could do was sit and wait.

It wasn't long until he got reaction on his radio.

_"That's a cute toy you got there, detective," a strong Irish accent assaulted his eardrums. _Don grabbed the radio and pressed the 'talk' button.

"Why don't you come out here and I'll show you how to use it?" he retorted, trying to keep his tone calm and even. So far, the Pacinos had no idea of Isabella being a hostage. Don intended to keep it that way, until the Wilder gang were behind bars where they belonged.

* * *

><p>Isabella rested her head against the metal of the truck, her teeth gritting against the sharp pain in her abdomen. Danny had had the fight beaten right out of him, Adam had been beaten and bruised, cuts marring his entire body. Isabella had given in, fearing for the baby's life. Her arms wrapped around her rounded stomach, trying to soothe the nervous fetus.<p>

"You alright?" Danny asked, his voice thick with exhaustion. She nodded, tears flooding her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Did you do this to me and Adam?" he queried. She shook her head. "Then you got nothin' to be sorry for, shorty."

"They'd hurt me too, but I'm pregnant," she protested tearfully. Danny swung his hand upwards, resting on her bulging stomach.

"You got this little guy to think about," he reminded her. "Trust me, I know you'd give these guys a tongue-lashing in their native tongue and take what they've dished if you weren't."

"I just wish I could do something," she confessed. He looked at her and then at Adam.

"Actually, you can," he said. "Adam, what do you got in your kit?"

Adam swung his head to meet Danny's gaze tiredly. "Uh, basic processing tools, drug marquis tests," he replied.

"Perfect," Danny said. His eyes were on Isabella. "How good of an actress are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm a decent one, I guess," she answered.

"Do you think you can fake labor pains?" he asked. "I'll run for Adam's drug kit and we'll get out of here for sure."

Isabella twisted her mouth in thought, her heartbeat quickening at the thought. "I don't know..." she trailed off. "Maybe, but wouldn't that be dangerous for you?"

"It's stupid and risky, but it's the only chance we got till backup gets here," Danny replied. He held onto her hands, his eyes boring into hers. "This is it, Izzy."

She nodded, her fear writhing its way up her spine for the first time. This was real.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it," she finally whispered. Her eyes widened. "Ooh no!"

"Oh no, her water broke! She's going into labor!" Danny said. The sound of footsteps grew closer and he winked at her, mouthing for her to keep it up.

"Oh God, it hurts!" she wailed, holding onto her stomach and kicking out her feet. Her face contorted in fake pain. "I need that bus!"

"What's going on here?" one of the gunmen asked. Danny nodded to Isabella.

"She's gone into labor," he replied. "This is it, her baby's going to be born!"

After Danny had slipped away to find the kit, Isabella continued her lame acting.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" someone asked. There was a holler and gunfire coming from outside the trailer. When the man that had come to help her turned his head, she grabbed his gun and pointed it at his head.

* * *

><p>The doors to the warehouse were kicked in as officers filed in. Don's eyes rested on two men with guns in their hands and he poised his weapon.<p>

"They're officers, Flack, don't shoot!" Adam's voice rang from the trailer. Officers ran in and searched around.

"Isabella?" Don called. "Danny?"

"They're in the trailer!" someone cried out. Don jogged his way to the truck and hopped inside. When his eyes rested on her, he dropped to his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a sob. Don's arms wrapped around her body, tucking her closer to him. He breathed in the familiar scent of her shampoo and kissed her head.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Did they hurt you?" He automatically searched for scrapes and bruises on her face, neck, and arms. She shook her head.

"We're fine," she assured him. There were bruises beginning to form on her cheekbones and a cut under her eye. His hand dropped to her belly and he pulled her to her feet.

"You're alright?" he asked again. She let out a laugh and her hand rested over his.

"We're fine," she repeated. "You'd be the first to know if there was a problem." He scooped her into his arms and suppressed a grunt to accommodate her new weight. She had been disgruntled as her weight had added on to help the baby, but there was no need. This woman was his.

When they reached outside, her eyes were on a Mercedes-Benz.

"Oh no," she said, those blue-flame orbs widening. "My father's here."

"Where is she?" Armando the Second's voice came from behind the tape.

"Daddy, I'm fine," she assured him as Don set her down. Her father kept her tightly in his arms as he smoothed her face.

"They hit you," he stated, his voice rising in panic. He let out curses in Italian at them as the men were escorted outside in handcuffs.

"I took care of myself and our baby," she said. Don felt her hand sneak into his, squeezing his fingers lightly. He knew Armando hadn't taken the news of the pregnancy well, but Marnie had been absolutely ecstatic.

"Is everything resolved?" Armando asked, his dark brown eyes meeting Don's.

"I can't say yet," Don responded, his tone unsure. "But for the most part, yes. There's more than enough evidence to take the Wilder gang off the streets for good."


	62. Lost In This Moment

**_A/N: Sooo...I almost had this finished, but when I went to go save it, it deleted itself. I nearly cried. ;-; But I had to get Marnie and Armando back together, they deserve to be together! Isabella is seven months pregnant...so yeah xD We're approaching the end of the story here...I love you all for being here with me on this journey, I never expected to see that so many people would love this story! But I also thought of this idea...it's a big moment, so why not do a double-yoking? ;D Very short chapter, the next one will be the last one. It should be longer..._**

**_RaiN: Glad! Even though it wasn't that sweet...it was more tense lol. But I'm glad you liked it anyways...and yes, it's the Snow Day episode! I should have put that in the last chapter, but oh well! I'd love a hug from Don Flack myself ;D _**

**_Shu: Yes, those little gangsters got their asses handed to them by a pregnant woman!_**

* * *

><p><em>Lost in this moment with you<em>

_I am completely consumed_

_My feelings so absolute_

_There's no doubt_

_Sealing our love with a kiss_

_Waited my whole life for this_

_Watching all my dreams come true_

_Lost in this moment with you_

Big and Rich — Lost In This Moment

* * *

><p>Isabella dabbed her eyes as she stood in City Hall as her mother's witness. She carried the red rose in her hand as she watched her parents join hands while the preacher reaffirmed their marriage. The emotion that shone in her father's eyes nearly broke her heart in two as he looked at Marnie. Her mother wore a simple baby blue sundress for the ceremony, her deep red hair piled up in a bun with ringlets cascading down her face. She looked beautiful. Her father wore a dark suit without a tie or a bow, his tall frame towering over Marnie's petite body.<p>

"Do you, Armando Pacino the Second, take Marnie Leigh O'Malley to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the young man asked, looking up from his Bible.

"I do," came her father's usually gruff voice. It had toned down an octave with affection. The words caused a wide smile to spread across her mother's face, her eyes shining like that of a schoolgirl.

"And do you, Marnie Leigh O'Malley, take Armando Pacino the Second to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the preacher asked. Marnie nodded as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I do," she whispered.

"Who acts as witnesses of this union?" he asked, looking at Isabella and Levi. Isabella stepped forward, raising her hand. She wore a purple dress, her large stomach sticking out and emphasizing her pregnancy. Only two months to go until her baby boy was born, which was something she looked forward to. Pain spread across her back and she shifted her weight. Don, Lacey, and Lily stood near the door of the marriage office, acting as the congregation of the wedding.

"Do you have the rings?" the preacher asked. Isabella nodded, pulling the wedding ring from the stem of her flower, handing it to him. To her utter shock and horror, he winked at her in thanks. She stepped back to let her parents have their moment. The tears welled in her eyes as her father slid the ring onto her mother's finger. Isabella's throat thickened and she sniffled, wiping her eye. Damn hormones.

"By the power vested in me, and by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride...again," the preacher said. Armando tipped Marnie's face and lowered his mouth to hers. Isabella applauded and wiped her eyes again.

"Damn this hormones!" she said, hugging her parents. "I'm so happy for you guys."

"Your parents are married now," Armando said into her ear. "Your turn."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Not for a while, Daddy," she replied. When everyone started grinning, she felt a sense of dread. "What's going on?"

"When is the other couple getting here? These money orders are non-refundable!" the preacher said, looking at his watch. "After this next one, I got one more!"

"Oh, your life is so busy," Isabella muttered under her breath. She kissed Don and pulled away. "Wait, what? What do you mean, my turn?"

She felt Don's lips on her cheek as he let out a chuckle. "Meaning, we got some people waiting out in the hallway to see us getting married tomorrow. I don't think they'll be too happy to find out it's been cancelled," he replied. Her eyes snapped up to him and widened in alarm.

"Wait, you mean I'm getting married twenty-four hours after my parents did?" she said. "How romantic."

"Hey, it was a buy one marriage certificate, get two free. Next week, we're coming back here to see Lacey and Levi get married," he replied. "The only time you and I have any time to get married is right now. Or else we wait until four months after the baby's born. I love our son, but I don't think he would want to be in the wedding photos."

Her heart swelled when he uttered the words "our son." "I don't think this room's big enough," she said hesitantly, looking around the room. "And it's my parents' day, not mine."

"We agreed to it," Armando told her. "Tomorrow, you're coming back here and you're getting married to this boy. Least he could do, you know, after what happened to you."

"Hey, it's a good thing!" Isabella protested with a playful frown. "Besides, I think he's kinda cute."

"And from what you told my sisters, I'm a douche," Don replied, kissing her nose. "Besides, I think this is one of my best ideas."

Isabella crinkled his nose. "I'll make sure you rot in hell for this," she told him, winding her arms around his waist.

"Hey, we got our whole lives to make each other's lives miserable," he replied with a wink.


	63. Their Destiny

**_A/N: I've waited the entire story to write this one chapter! This is going to be my fluffiest chapter yet, the perfect way to end this story! I will write the lyrics to this song throughout the chapter, it will be in italics. If there was a song for Don and Isabella, it's "My Destiny" by Katharine McPhee. It's so perfect, it was like it was written for them! The link for Isabella's wedding dress will be on my profile...except just imagine it as white xD _**

**_RaiN: Yes, I know! I hate to end it, but I saw an ending and I jumped for it! I've been wanting to get Armando and Marnie back together for sometime now. Don't worry, a new little fic is in the works ;D I may use a new OC, but I'm not sure yet...'Indelible' had inspired it. If that baby was a girl, Izzy would definitely have a child just like her, which would be a nightmare! And yes, Levi's pretty damn amazing ;D You're amazing too! You've stuck with me since the beginning! Wish you had speakers so you could hear the song I picked out for this chapter :C_**

**_Shu: I know, I squealed while I wrote this chapter!_**

* * *

><p><em>I have always dreamed of this<em>

_I'll admit that there was something I missed_

_Wondering if it is for real_

_Every mistake, every wrong turn, every time I lost my way_

_Led me to this moment of bliss tonight_

Katharine McPhee — My Destiny

* * *

><p>Isabella pulled the zipper up of her 'wedding' dress while Stella piled her messy waves on top of her head and fixed her bangs. The nerves clawed at Isabella's stomach until she thought she would faint. Last minute, they had decided to get married in the church she had been christened in.<p>

"You look so beautiful, Izzy," Stella told her after she was finished. The white spaghetti-strapped dress hit below the knee, looking a bit like a fairy dress. It had a sweetheart neckline and the skirt of the dress suited her pregnant belly. Isabella wore black flats with the dress, instead of heels.

"I can't believe I'm getting married," she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "Granted, I didn't imagine it with a big ole pregnant belly, but I can make this work."

"Pregnancy suits you," Stella assured her. "Don is crazy about you, kiddo. He's as nervous as you are right now."

"Telepathy one of your many talents, Bonasera?" Isabella joked weakly. Stella shook her head and hugged her.

"I just got off the phone with Danny. He's pacing around like a jungle cat in the hallway, he can't wait to see you," she replied. Tears flooded Isabella's eyes and she bit her lip.

"What if I screw this up? What if we wind up being another statistic?" she fretted. "Forty percent of marriages end in divorce now."

"The other sixty end in death, sweetie," Stella replied, wrapping her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "Honestly, I see death separating you two. I know you love him and nothing could take you away from him, right?"

Isabella nodded mutely. She was right. "Nothing could," she agreed.

"And I know that you'll be fine," Stella said. "Because you two have had curve ball after curve ball thrown at you, but you never gave up."

Isabella let out a soft laugh. Leave it to Stella to give Aria's "maid of honor" pep talk, which would have consisted of getting slapped across the face and her telling Isabella to "get it together, 'cause he ain't going nowhere."

"Let's do this," Isabella said with a smile starting to slowly form on her face.

* * *

><p>"Man, I'm so fucking nervous," Don muttered under his breath to Danny. Danny rolled his eyes, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.<p>

"Good," he replied. "'Cause if you weren't, I'd have to slap you in the face."

"Thanks, Messer," Don said. The men wore dark suits with different colored ties. Danny had put his foot down on a white tie and wore a blue tie. Given as he was best man, it suited him better. When Stella slid out of the bathroom, she waved her arm.

"Go tell them it's time," she commanded Danny. Her green eyes rested on Don and she gave him a hug. "She's as nervous as you are."

"I doubt it," he replied. "I swear, that woman was born without sweat glands."

"Oh yeah? She's pacing behind that door-" Stella said, nodding to the bathroom. "Wringing and shaking her hands and taking deep breaths."

"Excuse me, boys, it's time for me to give the MOH pep-talk," Aria said, walking towards the women's bathroom. The deep red skirt of the halterneck bridesmaid dress swished as she walked down the hall, pushing open the door.

"Boys, you gotta go!" Marnie stage-whispered. Her pale lilac dress ended at the knee, making her blue eyes pop. "Don, escort me to my seat, please."

Don chuckled and linked his arm through the armhole his future mother-in-law made by planting her hand onto her hip as the soft music played in the tiny little church. The same church Isabella and Ian had been christened in.

"Thanks," Marnie whispered as Don took his place at the altar. His heart continued its wild, uneven race in his chest as he took a deep breath.

"Nervous?" the preacher asked in a low voice. Don nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I really am." With those words, the soft chords of Shania Twain's "From This Moment On" started to drift through the church. Of course, Isabella had put her foot down about what song she was walking down the aisle to. No Pachabel Canon or "Here Comes The Bride" for her.

"It's too cheesy," she had declared.

Yet, he remembered seeing Aria and her belting out the Shania Twain classic in the car the day before. Seeing her so carefree had kept a smile on his face after they had dropped him off at the precinct.

His back remained turned until Danny tapped him on the shoulder. "She's coming," he stage-whispered. Don looked over his shoulder and turned around slowly.

_With you, finally I can break free  
>With you, I saw a changing in my destiny<br>__Dream come true, it's so funny now that I see  
><em>_How different life turned out to be_

Watching Isabella walk down the aisle with her father was one Don would brand in his mind forever. The dress clung to her body, muting her pregnant stomach rather than emphasizing it. When his eyes locked with hers, he knew he had made the right decision all those years ago.

_He caught her arm and pulled her back onto her feet. Her blue-flame eyes locked with his, sparking with annoyance._

_"Whoa, watch it," he said, a bit more gruff than he had intended. The woman brushed herself off, the annoyance replaced with anger. She was beautiful, he noticed. _

_"I'll be sure to look where I'm going next time," she snapped with a Southern drawl. With that, she tightened her long ponytail and turned to walk down the hall again._

_"Do you even know where you're going?" he asked. She halted and took a deep breath. When she turned on her heel to face him, he knew he was in trouble. Don had a feeling she was a feisty woman who didn't like to ask for help._

_"Well, you don't exactly look like the tour-guide type," she snarked back, her hands coming to rest on narrow hips. She studied him through narrowed eyes. _

_"I'm not, but I do know this lab pretty well," he offered, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes roamed over her athletic body before locking gazes with her._

_"I'm looking for either Detective Mac Taylor or Detective Stella Bonasera," she finally said. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch and he held back the smirk that threatened to take over his face._

_"Lucky for you, I know exactly who and where they are," he informed her. _

_"Lemme guess, first things first, you want to know something?" she said. The tug-of-war between Don Flack and his smirk finally finished, with the facial expression winning. _

_"Just your name. Though, if you gave me your number with it, I wouldn't be heartbroken," he replied. He could tell it was going to be fun to mess with her. Part of him hoped she would stick around. Her eyes narrowed into slits._

_"Isabella Pacino," she said. His eyes widened and everything made sense. She was Levi's little sister. _

_"Ooh, you're Levi's sister," he said slowly and knowingly. She clenched her jaw, tilting her chin up. _

_"Now's the part where you tell me where I get this information from. You can keep your number, I don't want it," Isabella told him. He pretended to wince at her sharp tongue._

_"Strike one for the new girl," he said. "Name's Flack." She crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing the curve of her chest under her heather gray V-neck T-shirt. _

_"You spoke of the locations of my new bosses," she prompted. Don had to let out a laugh._

_"Wow, you really are related to Levi. Yeah, they'll be back, they're at the scene. Told me to tell you if I see you to find Aiden Burn and she'll fill you in on the case. If you're nice, I may show you the way," he replied. She raised her eyebrow._

_"Well, you were the rude one first," she pointed out. He smirked knowingly at her. Ooh, she was indeed a feisty woman._

_"So close to an apology, newbie," he said. Her nostrils flared at the term for a split second, then she widened her big blue eyes. Oh damn, he was always a sucker for a good puppy-dog look. This woman flashed that look like she had created it._

_"Please?" she said, exaggerating the last syllable. If he had been more brazen, he would have slung his arm over her shoulder. _

_"C'mon, shorty, I'll show you around," he relented._

Isabella held his hands at the altar and his eyes locked with hers.

"I love you," he mouthed. Her contagious smile spread across her face as she rubbed his knuckles with her thumb.

"Love you too," she mouthed back. Yes, he'd known from day one that the sassy, brave, yet incredibly intelligent woman was one who would remain as a permanent fixture in his life. It had taken him three months to know that she was the one he wanted to be with. And two years to know she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

* * *

><p><em>You were always by my side<br>That you believed in me was enough reason why  
>I didn't stop, didn't give up<br>Even if sometimes I lost hope  
>I did my best and I am blessed in life<em>

"Repeat the words after me," Preacher Davis said, snapping Isabella back to reality. "I, Donald Joseph Flack Junior."

"I, Donald Joseph Flack Junior," Don echoed. It was time for the vows. Her heartbeat quickened as she looked at him.

"Take you, Isabella Rae Pacino."

"Take you, Isabella Rae Pacino."

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer."

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer."

She suppressed a giggle as Don mocked Davis's tone. He was having fun with this, she could tell. His electric blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at her.

"Forsaking all others, till death do us part."

"Forsaking all others, till death do us part," Don recited, as if he were a Boy Scout. Isabella could no longer suppress her giggle as it spilled out of her mouth.

"See what I'm marrying here? I'm trying to be sincere and she gets the giggles." He slid the little ring onto her ring finger and she let out a gasp. Yet another surprise. It was the ring she had longed to have for her own wedding when she was a child. The ring that had belonged to her late maternal grandparents. The flawless princess-cut diamond shone brilliantly in the platinum setting at her.

Isabella winked up at him before turning to face the preacher. Her turn for a little fun.

"I, Isabella Rae Pacino," the preacher said. Isabella repeated the words slowly.

"I, Isabella Rae Pacino."

"Take you, Donald Joseph Flack Junior."

"Take you, Donald Joseph Fl-Flack Junior," she replied, realizing in horror that she had flubbed her husband's last name. "Dammit," she muttered. She heard laughs among the congregation.

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer," Davis said.

"To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer," she recited.

"Forsaking all others, till death do us part."

"Forsaking all others, till death do us part." She slid her grandfather's ring onto Don's finger with a smile.

"Is there any reason why these two should not be wed? Speak now, or forever hold your peace," Preacher Davis announced. After a moment of silence, he continued. Little Ricky had been the ring-bearer, Lily had been the flower girl.

"The world's tiniest handcuffs," Don mused in a murmur. Isabella let out another giggle.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride," Davis said. Don let out a chuckle, laced his arms around her waist and tilted his head down. In response, Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched onto her toes to kiss him.

_With you, finally I can break free  
>With you, I saw a changing in my destiny<br>__Dream come true, it's so funny now that I see  
><em>_How different life turned out to be, yeah_

It was as if the kiss was their first as flashbacks came to her mind.

The day they met.

Their first case.

The time he had helped get her to the ambulance when Seamus McLean had beaten the crap out of her.

He had helped her heal from the ordeal.

He had helped her deal and come to terms with Aiden's death.

When they had gotten caught in the shooting, he had saved her life by killing Ardan O'Dwyer, her ex-fiancee.

When they had gotten caught in the blast, she had saved his life in turn by helping seal his artery with her shoelace.

_Can I get any higher?  
>Tell me, does it get any stronger?<br>I owe it to you that I made it through  
>I never could have done it without you<em>

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads touched.

"We did it," Don murmured. She brushed her lips over his and nodded.

"Yeah, we really did," she replied. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he told her. His lips touched her forehead and squeezed her waist. "So much."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Donald Joseph Flack Junior!" Preacher Davis called.

* * *

><p>Isabella pulled back the covers on their bed as she bit her lip. The wedding night was something she had been self-conscious about, but it was a silly worry. He had seen her naked plenty of times, but she had been a little embarrassed to have sex with him while pregnant. Supposedly, it was good for the baby. The little blue nightdress she wore barely covered her black panties, her large stomach making her pregnancy horribly obvious. It had been three hours since the reception, when they had danced to a song Aria had picked out and had kept as a surprise for them. The song had turned out to be a perfect fit, summing up everything in their relationship. "My Destiny" by an American Idol singer named Katharine McPhee.<p>

"Hey, we're pros at this," his thick Queens accent brought a smile to her face. She looked up at her husband and felt her face warm.

"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, I'm not as thin as I used to be...or as dexterous." Her blush deepened as she spoke the word 'dexterous.'

He cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes.

"You're my wife," he said simply. "I'm in love with my wife and I understand that you've changed a bit physically."

"But-" she protested. He cut her off with a gentle kiss.

"If you don't want to do this, that's fine," he assured her. His hand came to rest on her stomach. "I'll be careful and we'll stop if you get to be too uncomfortable."

The kiss stirred a deep yearning inside of her and she let him slide the nightdress off of her.

_With you, I can break free, yeah  
>I saw a changing in my destiny<br>Dream come true, it's so funny now that I see  
>How different life turned out to be<em>

When they were done, she curled up in her husband's arms afterwards. His hands slid down her back, his eyes on hers.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked. She smiled and shook her head. His lips touched her neck and bare shoulder before pressing against hers again. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, her voice a soft murmur. The feel of his arms was enough to erase any lingering insecurities and she let out a soft yawn. "Goodnight, fear céile."

The Irish word for husband.

"Goodnight, mo bhean álainn," he told her, kissing her lips again. [Goodnight, my beautiful wife]

_I've realized that it's my destiny_

* * *

><p><strong><em>And so ends 'Chain Reaction.' I hope you all enjoyed this story and I'm so thankful for you all!<em>**


	64. Family Time

_**A/N: Instead of writing a sequel for this story, I've decided to lengthen it a bit more...you guys have been so cool x.x Writing this with my sister's Chihuahua on my lap...gotta love puppies :) I know I marked this story as complete, but not anymore! And DJ stands for "Donald Junior" by the way.**_

_**Rain: IT IS NOT THE FINAL CHAPTER AS YOU WELL KNOW! C: **_

_**Shu: OH HO HO NOT QUITE!**_

_**Baby: Now you know c:**_

_**Caitlin: Instead of a sequel, I've decided to lengthen this story more **_

_**Messer: Well, your wish has been granted**_

_**Nicky: Psh, girl, you know you're okay! You're here now and that's all that counts C:**_

_**Guest: Then I guess it's a good thing it didn't end after all? C:**_

_**Halle: You're so sweet c:**_

* * *

><p><em>So I'll let you look inside me<br>Through the stains and through the cracks  
>And in the darkness of this moment<br>You see the good and bad  
>But try not to judge me<br>'Cause we've walked down different paths  
>But it brought us here together<br>So I won't take that back_

Thompson Square — Glass

* * *

><p>Isabella woke up to the sound of her alarm clock blaring on the nightstand next to her. She reluctantly peeled open her groggy eyes and saw the numbers flashing red and a little girl holding the iPhone.<p>

"Sawyer, what are you doing?" she mumbled the question to her daughter. The eighteen-month old grinned sheepishly and set the phone on the stand again, babbling on in her own little language, fixing her with massive turquoise eyes. Her go-to when she felt like she was in trouble. DJ sat Indian-style on the foot of the queen-sized bed, dressed in airplane pajamas. His dark hair stuck up in disarray and he pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

"Mom, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" he asked. "Or some eggs and bacon?"

"Give your mom a few minutes to wake up. I got you guys," Don said from the doorway. Sawyer's eyes lit up at the sound of her father's voice and she ran over to him.

"Da!" she squealed. Isabella watched her go and sat up, straightening out her white tank top. Don was still dressed in his work clothes, so this told her that he just got off work. Dark circles rimmed under her husband's eyes and she slid out of bed, accepting the toddler from his arms.

"Go ahead and go to bed, babe. I got 'em," she told him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her arm. "Hey, DJ, can you take your sister into the living room and turn on _Fresh Beat Band _while I take care of Daddy?"

DJ bobbed his head and took Sawyer's hand, leading the little girl out of the room. Isabella shut the door behind him to see Don untying his shoes and setting his badge down on his nightstand.

"Come here. You're too exhausted to do this by yourself," she told him. She could tell by the way his eyes fluttered shut and his head bowed that he was on the verge of passing out. Her fingers quickly helped him out of the buttons on his shirt and tossed it into the hamper behind him. "Your pajama pants are on the bed, baby."

"I need a day off," he mumbled as he crawled into bed in his boxers and wife-beater. "We should get away for a couple of days sometime soon."

"Mm, maybe," she agreed, pulling the blankets up over him. She opened the door and walked into the living room to see her kids sitting on the floor with two bowls of dry Cheerios, the crazy antics of Kiki, Marina, Shout, and Twist blaring from the flat-screen on the wall. "Alright, let's keep the TV turned down a bit so Daddy can sleep."

Sawyer looked up at her, reddish-brown curls bobbing a bit. When Isabella turned down the sound, she let out a shriek.

"Sawyer Michelle Flack!" Isabella chided. Sawyer's mouth set in a thin line, crossing her little arms over her chest. "You cut that out!"

Immediately, she stopped.

"Alright, guys, let's get some real breakfast and we'll get dressed and then you're gonna hang out with Grandma and Grandpa," she told them. DJ gave a dramatic sigh and stood up to run towards his bedroom. "Donald Benjamin Flack Junior, you'd better come back and try that again!"

There was a crash then a slow, shamed walk from the back bedroom to the living room. Then he slowly walked back.

"Come on, little girl. Let's get you dressed," Isabella said, scooping up her toddler and sitting her on her hip. After dressing Sawyer in a pair of shorts and a pink tank top with her hair in pig-tails, she put her daughter's feet in flip-flops. "You look so cute."

Sawyer beamed a cheesy smile up at her. Isabella tickled her pudgy stomach, the musical giggles filling the air. DJ stood in the doorway in olive-green cargo shorts and a long-sleeved black thermal shirt, and Spider-Man rain-boots.

"You're gonna be hot. I like the shorts, but let's get you a T-shirt and some flip-flops," Isabella suggested before walking out of Sawyer's room. Kyra Flack stood in the living room. Even in the sultry heat of summer when the mercury reached triple digits, it was like the woman never sweated. She wore a white linen blouse and a matching pair of white linen trousers and a pair of white sandals. Isabella shook her head with a breathy chuckle. By the end of the day, that pristine white outfit would be smudged with food. That gorgeous dark brown hair would have Cheerios and canned Mandarin oranges. "Hi, Kyra."

"Gaw!" Sawyer said, pointing excitedly at her grandmother. Isabella let her go and the little girl bounded toward her. Kyra smiled thinly and lifted the pudgy toddler into her arms.

"If you'd give me a minute while I fix DJ, they're almost ready to go. They haven't finished eating yet, but if you give Sawyer a banana and DJ a granola bar, they'll be fine," Isabella told her, taking the opportunity to jog down the hall to her son's room. Getting kids ready in the morning was always a hassle, but she loved it. DJ would be going into kindergarten in the fall, Sawyer would go into daycare when Kyra was busy in the mornings. "DJ, Grandma's here, you'd better get ready."

DJ's arms stuck up while trying to tug a black T-shirt over his head. "Hold on, Mom. Almost ready," he called. After a few more seconds of wrestling with his shirt, Isabella walked over and helped him worm his way into wearing a proper shirt. He grinned sheepishly at her and she rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. "Thanks."

"Go brush your teeth, baby," she told him, kissing his forehead. DJ ran out of the room and up to Kyra, chattering on about his shows and friends, his blueberry-blue eyes bright. "Keep your voice down, DJ, Daddy's sleeping." He nodded absently and looked up at Kyra again.

"I'll have them back by eight," Kyra said, corralling the children out of the apartment. "Get some rest, dear."

"Thanks, Kyra," Isabella called. When the door shut, she made her way back into the bedroom and looked down at her sleeping husband. His arm curled around her pillow, his face shoved into it. "Don, you're on my pillow." She shoved him a bit until he rolled back over on his side of the bed before laying down next to him. She watched his handsome face while he slept and she nestled into his side. His arm tightened around her tiny body, his hand resting on her exposed thigh.

He really was such a handsome man. Age weathered his skin a bit, but he had the laugh lines. His dark lashes contrasted against his gently tanned skin, his mouth open in a gentle snore. She could feel his heart thudding evenly under her flattened palm and her thumb caressed his chest through the material of the white wife-beater.

"You put your leg down much more, we're gonna have a different sort of situation on our hands, Lionheart," he mumbled in his sleep. She chuckled and moved her leg from his stomach, twining her legs with his instead.

"The kids are with your mother, so we have the entire day to sleep," she told him. He shifted beside her and sighed groggily.

"I love our kids, but they're a lot to handle," he said. She nudged him playfully and he chuckled. "It's true. Don't deny you've thought the same thing."

"Yeah, but I'd never voice it," she remarked. Isabella snuggled him again and reached up, kissing him gently. "We've got a pretty sweet setup, don't we?"

"Yup. I've got a great job, two great kids, and a very talkative wife," Don commented. One blueberry-blue eye opened and she slapped his stomach playfully.

"You can sleep on the couch!" she scolded. He kissed her gently and brushed her black-brown hair from her face.

"I didn't get to finish, Miss Interrupter," he told her, pecking small kisses on her lips and alternating between her mouth, her chin, the space between her eyes, down her nose. "A very talkative wife who I wouldn't trade for the world."

"Because no other woman would put up with you," she added. Another toe-curling, spine-tingling kiss planted on her mouth. "I'll be quiet now, but I like it when you try to shut me up with that." She gave him a cheesy smile.

"Now I know where Sawyer gets it," he said. He rolled her on her back, his hand sliding along her smooth thigh. "A great job, two beautiful kids, one very talkative, gorgeous wife who I wouldn't trade for the world. Who is the amazing mother of said two beautiful kids."

"Keep talkin', cowboy. I like what I'm hearing," she goaded. "And I know this is the sleep deprivation talking."

"Also something I don't tell you enough. You're an amazing mother, Iz. And you're an amazing wife, alright?"

Isabella nodded mutely. Don knew her better than she knew herself. He could read her mind through her body language. He saw the real her through the layers of everything else and loved her for who she was.

"And you're an amazing father and an amazing husband. That's something I don't tell _you _enough," she told him. He kissed her softly, his hands sliding up her side. "We've got the entire day to ourselves, so let's get some sleep."

He looked disappointed for a moment until she flipped him on his back and straddled his hips, dropping a kiss on his mouth.

"And if you're good while we sleep, your reward will be great," she said. He craned his neck up for another kiss. "Is breá liom tú." [I love you]

"Is breá liom tú, freisin," he replied.

[I love you, too]


End file.
